


Prodigal Son

by BkWurm1



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: AU, Complete, F/M, Humor, Laurel moved away years ago, Moira and Tommy live, Mystery, No island, Romance, no Green Arrow, no love triangles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2020-09-25 07:41:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 37
Words: 175,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20373139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BkWurm1/pseuds/BkWurm1
Summary: Oliver Queen vowed never to return home. Felicity Smoak is determined to change his mind.Eight years ago, the Queen’s Gambit sank and Starling City mourned for two of their own, Robert and Oliver Queen. Then, two weeks later, the son emerged, seemingly clueless, but very much alive.  The city’s devotion flipped to suspicion.Oliver Queen went into exile and life in Starling City went on unchanged until the day Felicity Smoak was plucked from the IT department and handed a mystery.  It was only when bodies started piling up that she understood the stakes.  Abruptly thereafter, she was told the matter was settled and to stop digging.She didn’t.For years, even as Felicity grew closer to the Queen family, she secretly continued her search for answers.  She wants to move on and start living her dreams, but she can’t until she finds the truth.  Now, she knows how to get it.  Retrieving Starling City’s Prodigal Son is only the first step.***Follow as as Felicity and Oliver meet and search for a different way to save the city.  Much has changed, but some things will always stay the same, like just how much Oliver and Felicity will always need each other.  They just don't know it yet.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oliver Queen leaned back in the shadowed corner of the cabin’s porch watching the woman exit her car. A rusty smile curved the corner of his mouth. She talked to herself. Her bright pink lips pursed and frowned and then reformed into a confident smile accompanied by a hand gesture that looked like a fist pump.

  
A pep talk, maybe?

  
She nodded once and then leaned into the backseat of her car, grabbing a compact briefcase. She stood and smoothed her figure-hugging, turquoise dress into place before determinedly heading his direction.

  
He’d been expecting her after all her voicemails, but reality had outdone his imagination. No, she wasn’t a middle-aged, wannabe hippie, but young and modern, probably still in her twenties. She wasn’t stuck in some forgotten decade with flowers in her hair, though if her high ponytail came down, her long, blond hair could have fit right in. Not her glasses though. They were all business even if they did nothing to distract from her delicate features.

  
Not that what she looked like mattered. She wasn’t his type. Fervent do-gooder was never going to make the list. He still leaned toward sophisticated, reserved and elegant like Laurel had been even if he’d run screaming from the thought of a commitment to his then college girlfriend.

  
This woman matched her voice: bright, colorful and enthusiastic, but he’d lived with his shadows too long to trust the light even if it came packaged with a pretty face, toned figure, short skirt and perhaps the most spectacular ass he could recall seeing.

She walked toward the cabin with purpose, only faltering for a second at the bottom of the steps when she realized he had been there observing the whole time. Briefly, he thought about putting on the shirt he’d discarded because of the heat but dismissed the idea. She could take him as she found him.

  
She climbed the steps without waiting for an invitation and greeted him with an outstretched hand.

  
“Oliver Queen, I presume.”

  
He let her hand and words hang in the air. With his back resting against the cabin wall and his arms crossed, he assessed her at closer range. Blue eyes. Slim with a light build, but not too skinny. Probably at least a head shorter than him, probably more so without the very high, very yellow heels, but if she was troubled by the obvious difference between their size and strength, she didn’t show it. She pushed her rectangular glasses higher on her nose and cocked her head to the side.

  
“You are Oliver Queen.” She said it as a statement but narrowed her eyes as if unsure. “I mean of course you are. I’ve seen your picture sitting on your mother’s desk every day for at least the last two years.” She looked him up and down, studying him, probably cataloguing the differences. Her eyes lingered on the defined abs four weeks alone in the woods running and doing endless sit ups and pushups produced.

  
“You really should send your mother a new picture, this,” she said while motioning her hand his direction, “is a much better look.” Almost immediately, pink stained her cheeks.

  
“I don’t mean sweaty and shirtless. Though, nothing wrong…I meant your face, head is much better. Not that you weren’t cute before, but the scruff and the shorter hair suits you. Old you looked like a cross between a yacht salesman and a serial killer.”

  
He raised an eyebrow and her eyes grew wide as what she said reached her ears.

  
“Which… you’re not. Though clearly I am dying here.” Pained, she closed her eyes, took a breath and restarted with the same smile he’d seen her practice in the driveway now plastered on her face.

  
“I should introduce myself, I’m—”

  
“Felicity Smoak,” he finished with certainty. No, he’d never seen the woman before, but he’d known it was her the moment her car turned into the drive. No sleek sports car, utilitarian behemoth or mundane sedan would do for the woman who for the past month had been unleashing her sunshine on a near, daily basis in increasingly fervent, voice messages.

  
Before the crunch of gravel sounded beneath her tires, he hadn’t thought about what sort of vehicle she’d drive, but the second he saw the cheeky, cherry red, Mini Cooper pulling up, he’d known Felicity Smoak had come to make good on her threat. She was there to bring him home.

  
She would fail in her mission.

  
Starling City ceased being home more than eight years ago when his father’s ship foundered in the North China Sea and took with it the footing of his life. He’d left everything behind: friends, family, wealth and occasionally even his name. There was no point in going back anyway. He wasn't the person his family thought they would find. If they missed him at all, they missed someone he’d gladly stopped being years ago.

  
“You should know you are wasting your time,” he told her.

“That’s what people keep telling me.”

“But you came anyway.” Despite Felicity Smoak in person being as intriguing as her many messages, nothing had changed. He wasn’t going back to Starling City no matter what she said.

“Hey, you’re talking to me,” she shrugged with a smile. “That’s progress already.”

He fought back the urge to return her smile. “My mother was big on social graces.”

“She’s also big on wanting her son to come home.”

  
The wry turn of his mouth hardened. “Didn’t she tell you? I’m the child that constantly disappoints.”

  
“I’m not disappointed.”

  
No, her determined optimism didn’t appear to have dimmed at all. He assessed what he knew about her again. His mother's latest minion was different from the others she’d sent. For one, Ms. Smoak actually found him at a time when he wasn't looking to be found. He wasn’t exactly deep in hiding, but the cabin was rented in cash under a fake name and the phones she’d left message after message on were burners. She’d originally contacted him through an old, listed business line, one he’d checked for messages a final time before he’d headed to the cabin. Mixed among the cranks and requests for interviews he was never going to give, had been her first message.

  
She’d introduced herself with a bright smile in her voice and then promised to call his other line. At first, he figured she’d waste her time dialing phones he’d decided to let the guys from the crew keep, including his former personal line, but on his drive to the cabin, her name and number flashed up on the cheap phone he’d purchased at a random gas station. Nobody had that number.

  
Maybe curiosity explained why he'd listened to her next few messages multiple times before deleting them. Then, something more interesting than paranoia prompted him to buy another burner and as he’d oddly hoped, she switched to leaving messages on the new phone. It went back and forth after that. Didn’t matter which phone he was using that day, her daily call came through on the phone he had turned on. He’d been impressed on top of his ever growing curiosity.

A couple weeks in, as the coveted solitude at the cabin crept toward boredom, he realized her calls had become the highlight of his day.

  
He shouldn’t have been too surprised; her calls were meant to charm. They’d begun as brief, bright, cajoling requests, framing his eight and half year absence as a tragic misunderstanding that could now be left in the past. When that netted her no response, she promised him a golden opportunity on his return. She’d stopped short—and thereby again marked herself different from the rest—by not promising him full restoration to his trust fund and inheritance. Usually his mom's lawyers and investigators led with that.

  
The third week she channeled Uncle Sam and her messages were a call to duty and came peppered with cheerful but firm lectures on family, responsibility and fidelity. Felicity Smoak should have sounded like a crackpot, but optimistic sincerity rang in every word. Hell, the sincerity alone should have confirmed she was a crackpot. Jury remained out on that, but last week she brought out the heavy artillery. A real gut punch.

  
_“Thea needs you.”_

It hurt to think about his sweet and sassy little sister. Thea was young when he left, not far from thirteen, and he missed her still, but she'd been part of the reason he'd stayed gone. She loved him. Looked up to him. Two outstanding reasons for him to stay far away. He didn’t like to think about Thea, so he did what he always did. He changed the subject.

  
“Do you always scurry to do what my mother commands?” He expected some of Felicity’s cheer to fade, but she merely shrugged.

  
“Pretty much. It’s the nature of the job,”

  
“And you don’t get tired of being at her beck and call?”

  
“God, yes! Your family is exhausting, but that’s where you come in.”  
He frowned. “Meaning?”

  
“Once you come home, I can quit.”

  
“I’m not coming back.” He was quick to say. And then just as quick to ask, “Why can’t you quit now?”

  
“They need me.”

  
God, who said things like that? And why was it so easy for him to believe her? When was the last time in his life he'd been that passionate about anything, let alone someone else's family? Did that mean Felicity was as alone in the world as he had become?

  
“It’s a job,” he told her. “Quit and let my mom find someone else to play personal assistant.”

  
“It’s Executive Assistant. I’m one of two, though Priya isn’t back from maternity leave until Monday. And if quitting was that simple, don’t you think I would have done it long ago? I went to MIT. I have dual Master degrees in Computer Science and Cybersecurity. I have plans to start my own business. I was never supposed to be anyone’s personal assistant.”

  
“Don’t you mean Executive Assistant?”

  
She glared at him for his goading and he couldn’t hold back his smile this time. No. She did not disappoint at all.

  
He'd spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about the woman behind the voice even when he’d had no business thinking about her. In the end, he’d dismissed the guilt. Late at night, alone in his bed, a man had a right to his private thoughts, whatever they were.

  
Still, what did it say about him when in the past year a disembodied voice had done more to stir his interest than any real flesh and blood woman? Probably a side effect of a long dry spell. He could have fixed that but hadn't for the same reason the dry spell existed. It had been a long time since he found a causal hookup much more satisfying than his hand.

  
What had been so simple in his youth came now with too many complications and a kind of emptiness that couldn’t be filled with more of the same. There might have been opportunities for more; he’d met perfectly nice, attractive women that weren't only looking for the thrill of saying they'd slept with the Oliver Queen, notorious, former playboy of Starling City, but none motivated him to make the effort. For a long time, he told himself the business consumed all his free time. He’d lost that excuse four weeks ago. Curiously, Felicity’s calls started right as that huge chapter in his life closed. He doubted her timing was a coincidence.

  
When he'd walked away from everything the Queen name offered, he hadn't been looking to replace it with a fortune of his own and by the standards he'd left behind, he hadn't come close, but even before Palmer Tech paid him an exorbitant amount for land that had turned out to be rich with the rare, dwarf star ore, he'd quietly built up Green Archer Construction into a steady, highly profitable venture. Seems the business gene hadn’t skipped a generation after all.

  
Felicity Smoak’s calls came when he'd been at a crossroads. He could have relocated the company, but even before the discovery of the extremely rare material beneath headquarters, continuing to build custom, environmentally friendly, vacation homes and palatial log cabins for the same pretentious people he'd left behind in Starling was not what he wanted to do the rest of his life. So he’d fronted his foreman everything needed to take over the remaining contracts, liquidated the rest of his assets, and went back to the peace and isolation of the woods, hoping to get his head straight.

  
Instead, he’d filled his head with fantasies about that voice, allowing his usually inactive imagination to run wild. He tried to squash that and instead tried to convince himself Felicity was probably that a middle aged, vegan librarian, hipster out to save the world. For who else could survive being his mother’s personal assistant while retaining their optimism? Three days ago when Ms. Smoak’s calls stopped coming, he’d been certain she was not the type to give up and assumed an in-person visit would be her next move. He’d been braced for the disappointment of reality ever since. Clearly, that hadn’t happened.

  
Again, he reminded himself she still wasn’t his type, but he was willing to revisit his thoughts on short term hookups. If she was finished wasting their time with his mother’s mission, he could take a quick shower and then take her to dinner. Or skip the shower and convince her to get sweaty with him.

  
“I don’t think you understand what is at stake. Your family needs you. And what’s more,” she glanced at the roughly hewn cabin and the isolated, wooded location, “I think you need them.”

  
So much for being finished.

  
“You don’t know what you are talking about.” And yet her words caused acid to churn in his stomach.

  
“No, not all of it, but I know more than you realize. Things you don’t know. Things that you need to know. If you would just come home, everything would be so much easier to explain.”

  
He pushed away from the cabin wall and went inside, letting the screen door slam behind him. There was nothing she could say, nothing that would change anything. He knew that and yet something about Felicity Smoak had been getting under his skin from the very beginning. His life in Starling City and everyone that came with it was something he’d long since left buried in his past. Her pleas shouldn’t touch him and yet, here he was in retreat. He wasn’t halfway across the sparsely furnished living area before the stretch of metal springs on the screen door announced she had followed him inside.

  
“I don’t recall inviting you in.” he growled, swinging back around.

  
“An oversight I’m sure.” She said, refusing to be intimidated. He’d already known she was stubborn, but now he wondered if he should add naïve or was it just plain reckless?

  
“Who was dumb enough to let you come here alone? You don’t just enter a stranger’s house. Look around. We are miles from another human being.” He took an intimidating step her direction. “I could do anything and there would be nothing you could do to stop me.” He took another step toward her, expecting her to flee. Needing her to run because he had nowhere left to retreat.

  
“You should know better,” he reminded her. “What they wrote in the papers alone should have been enough to keep any intelligent woman away.”

  
To his frustration, instead of taking him seriously, she softly laughed and asked, “Like peeing on a cop?”

  
“No, like killing my father!” He roared.

Rage over the past merged with a surge of irrational anger over Felicity not being more cautious. Breathing heavily with his heart racing, he snapped his mouth shut. It should be nothing to him if she wanted to take stupid risks like being alone with an accused murderer. She wasn’t his responsibility. He only had himself to look after and that was the way he wanted it.

  
He flinched when Felicity gently touched his forearm, making him aware he was clenching his fists at his sides. He tried to force his hands to uncurl, but he was too tense. Losing his temper, shouting—it unnerved him. Many years had passed since he’d lost control like that. Another good reason his past needed to stay buried.

  
“Oliver, you didn’t kill your father.”

  
A wistful pang went through him. She seemed so certain.

  
“You don’t know that. Even my mom….” He couldn’t finish. God, it stung. He thought he’d gotten over the pain of his mom’s abandonment. The press turned ugly so quickly after they discovered he and Sara hadn’t died as originally reported. Tragedy initially tempered the salacious details of him running off with his girlfriend’s sister, but once he and Sara popped up alive and clueless after weeks holed up in an isolated Hawaiian shack while the world mourned with his mother and sister, the backlash of negative public opinion fueled every conspiracy theory concocted.

  
The most repeated one involved him sabotaging the Queen’s Gambit in order to stop his father from disinheriting him. How convenient to only realize halfway across the Pacific Ocean that Sara’s passport had expired. And how very handy that the delay caused by the detour to Hawaii put the Gambit in the North China Sea just at the very peak of the storm system, a perfect cover for his cold-blooded treachery.

  
With the Queen’s Gambit at the bottom of the ocean, there was no proof of his innocence and only a lifetime of reckless choices to speak to his character. But that was eight years ago. None of that mattered anymore. That wasn’t his life. That wasn’t who he was and he’d stopped caring what other people thought about him a hell of a long time ago. So why did he care now?

  
Felicity’s touch slid down to his hand. He didn’t pull away and didn’t analyze why he was reluctant to break away from her act of human kindness. She covered his fist with her cool palm, her thumb making soothing little circles.

  
“Eight years ago,” she began, “when the Gambit went down, I was at MIT on a full scholarship. I was too busy to pay attention to a story happening on the other side of the country about some rich playboy. But about five years ago, when I took the job at Queen Consolidated, I paid attention. I read the accusations, but I never believed them. No one who goes to the extreme of sabotaging their father’s boat to preserve an inheritance would then walk away from that life and everything it entails.”

  
“Maybe…maybe I didn’t want the responsibility that went with it.” He pushed, not knowing why he wanted this woman he barely knew to know the worst things said about him.

  
“That I believe, Mister-I-dropped-out-of-four-colleges,” she teased, “but I still never believed you were a murderer, even before I saw…even before I worked with Walter Steele, or got to know your family.”

  
The acid in his stomach stopped burning. Why her faith brought a measure of relief was another thing he didn’t feel like examining.

  
“Kicked out,” he corrected.

  
“Hmm?”

  
“You can’t drop out when they no longer let you attend.”

  
She laughed, a melody of amusement he was proud to have a part in releasing.

  
“I was being polite. But maybe,” she suggested, “maybe that’s why the fifth and final college worked out. All online, so no campus to get kicked off of.”

  
The urge to smile returned. Somehow it didn’t surprise him that she knew about that. “Maybe.”

  
“Come home to Starling and it will be different this time as well.”

  
A scowl creased his forehead. She wouldn’t let up. “And what?” he mocked. “Take over my rightful place at the helm of Queen Consolidated?”

  
“God, no!” She drew back and looked genuinely horrified. “You are nowhere near qualified to run Queen Consolidated. Thousands and thousands depend on that company for their living. Even I’d make a better CEO, not that anyone without the last name Queen would be allowed to take over, well Walter did for a while, but only after he married into the family, so that’s different.”

  
Her deep lack of confidence in his skills triggered the smile he’d thought he’d squashed. God, she was something unexpected.

  
“Now that,” he teased, “sounds like the perfect solution. We get married and you go back to Starling City to take over the family company.”

  
“Ha, ha. I’m trying to get out from under the rest of your family, not get into bed with you.”

  
Heat uncurled in his gut at the thought. “Then I guess both of us will be disappointed.”

  
A flush of pink returned to her cheeks. “I think we’re getting off track.”

  
He exhaled through his nose. She was right and even if he much preferred the track they’d momentarily diverged onto, he’d already indulged his curiosity about the woman behind the voice for too long. It was time to send her home.

  
“There is no on track. I already told you, there’s nothing you can say to make me come home.” He forced steel into his voice. “Don’t bother contacting me again.” He needed to end this foolishness once and for all. It was better for both of their sakes. “Now I need to take a shower. Unless you’re interested in joining me, I think it’s time for you to leave.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest and stared down at her impassively.

  
Awareness flashed in her eyes and for a heated second, he couldn’t predict what she was going to do, but it was not being able to predict what he’d do if she actually decided to take him up on his offer that had him moving. Getting involved with her in any way meant trouble. It was a bad idea. He knew it was a bad idea. So he started undressing.

  
The shirt was already gone, so he began with one running shoe and then the other. Then he swept off his grey sweats so he was standing in his dark boxers and socks. He thought to scare her off or maybe even deep down hoped to convince her to stay. The amused eye roll sent his way proved he’d done neither, but she seemed willing to let him have his way for now.

  
“Fine. I’ll go. But first…here, take this.” Felicity unclasped the top of her briefcase and extracted a thumb drive. Instinctively, he reached for what she offered. By the time she met his eyes again, her earlier amusement was gone. Lines bunched on her forehead and for a moment she kept her hand clasped around his, making certain he had careful hold of the short fob.

  
“I’m not sure this is the right move,” Felicity told him. “I wanted to wait before I gave this to you. Give you a chance to settle back in with your family or at least think about the offer you never gave me a chance to pitch, but this,” she hesitated and then what looked like pity flashed in her eyes, “this is one of the things you need to know. Maybe you’re right. Maybe nothing I say will convince you to come home, but I don’t have to be the one talking.”

  
With those cryptic comments, she left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was written as a challenge to myself to see what Olicity would be like as a more straightforward romance/mystery story. I found some inspiration from the Jayne Ann Krentz novel, Family Man. So if showing up after hounding someone with voicemails seemed familiar, there you go, lol. After that, I went my own way. :D 
> 
> (FYI, I did start to post this on Wattpad months ago while I was still writing it but that petered out by chapter five and I have since then rewritten this first chapter.) 
> 
> I also want to say that while this is an AU, much of the first year of the show, minus Oliver being there, still would have happened. I tried to look at how Oliver not being there would have changed things and vice versa, what would be the same with or without him. 
> 
> I also looked at how the changes I've made to this world would have in turn changed personalities, so Oliver, while he is still haunted by the past, is already a much lighter soul than he is on the show. I also decided that with or without Oliver, Felicity would have found a version of who she was meant to be. (With Oliver remains Felicity's preference, mine too)
> 
> All of this was at times, a surprising exercise. With that in mind, it's not a spoiler to say many of the biggest mysteries to the characters are things we in the audience already know so I ended up exploring fallout from that altered past while the characters find answers. (A heads up, Moira and Tommy are the big winners of Oliver's absence, not being dead and all.) 
> 
> I hope you enjoy the story to come and if you have any questions or comments, I'd love to hear from you. :D 
> 
> Oh, also, this story is already written so I will be posting a new chapter every Saturday.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I'm posting two chapters this week. Chapters 2 and 3 were originally written together but I split them for ease of reading. _

Felicity punched the elevator button to the executive floor of the Queen Consolidated building with more force than required. Yesterday, during the hours driving back to Starling City, she’d moved past the mortification of her disastrous trip to see Oliver Queen and embraced the angry frustration of him not even giving her the chance to make her actual offer. Went to bed that way and woke up still happily letting her wrath sustain her. Sure, some of that anger she directed at her own inability to phrase the innocuous in anything but the worst possible way, but still, even that was 60/40 Oliver Queen’s fault.

  
Shirtless and jacked like a professional bodybuilder but minus the thick-necked bulk, his intense blue eyes and action hero, stubbled jawline practically reduced her to a swooning cliché. On top of that, when he wasn’t scowling, he’d been alarmingly charming. How was any heterosexual woman supposed to concentrate?

  
Surprisingly, and more dangerously, the awareness had been mutual. A case of one sided lust would have been much simpler. Her fingers still itched to touch all that beautiful, taut skin. Resisting temptation had been harder knowing the owner of said skin wanted to be touched.

  
As the elevator rose, Felicity’s anger dipped back into the mortification range. She’d ogled him—practically begged for a picture to make the memory last longer—and then, in nearly the same breath, called him a serial killer. Backtracking had only made it ten times worse.

  
Felicity tipped her head back, grateful for the early hour which gifted her an empty elevator, and lightly banged her skull against the wall. Repeatedly.

  
Her private time ended on the 6th floor. An engineer she sometimes talked with on break joined her. They exchanged nods and he perfunctorily asked if she was looking forward to the weekend before they both retreated to their phones.

  
Greg. That was his name. He was around her age, maybe a few years older. Nowhere close to the masculine perfection of an Oliver Queen, but then she’d never been drawn to that look in real life. The spark she’d felt probably hadn’t been based in reality either. Probably a combination of nerves and meeting in person someone she’d heard so much about. That and Thea was right; busy or not, she needed to make time to date.

  
Out of the corner of her eye, she looked Greg over again and stifled a sigh. No. Greg was nice and she enjoyed talking to him about his projects with Applied Science, but there was no spark, real or imagined. Time to sign up for one of the dating apps she kept intending to download. Or maybe go old school and directly sample the meat market at Tommy’s nightclub.

  
She squashed that idea. There’d been a reason she’d been avoiding Verdant lately and with the imminent Merlyn Global merger on the horizon, it was getting harder to duck Tommy. At the end of last week’s meeting, she’d been sure Tommy was trying to ask her out for dinner, and for just a minute, she’d been lonely enough to consider saying yes.

  
Thankfully Moira called her away and her momentary insanity passed. He only had one thing on his mind. Well, two, this was Tommy Merlyn after all, but she suspected he was far more interested in any influence she had with Moira over his trust fund than in actually dating her.

  
The elevator opened on the 11th floor, Greg exited, but nearly a dozen other employees filed in. She kept moving back until she was squashed in the corner. After just about everyone tapped a different floor, she regretted not using her express code to the executive level. Still, since she was there, she eyed the men in suits. Several were cute.

  
Dating someone from work wasn’t the best idea, but any one of the sardines packed in with her would be a better option than Tommy. Ok, maybe she was being mean. He made a nice friend, but Merlyn was too much a part of the Queen family to seriously consider getting tangled up with even if she ever did determine genuine romantic interest.

  
Oliver Queen’s interest, now that had been very easy to figure out. The real thing usually was. Not that she should feel too special. It wasn’t as if Oliver Queen came with a better reputation than Tommy Merlyn. God, Queen Consolidated still had security protocols left over from their wild days.

  
Oliver and Tommy had grown up thick as thieves: two ridiculously wealthy, handsome, playboy, peas in a pod. Tommy had been there for all of Oliver’s greatest hits: the parade of women, the paparazzi, punching the paparazzi. Even the helicopter heist and the infamous cop peeing incident. They’d been best friends who’d done everything together…until Oliver left town.

  
Without the walking reality show that had been his life eight years ago, it was harder to know the current Oliver. Moira had more recent reports from her investigators. They were filled with data but short on personal detail. Still, even with the fuzzy bits, Felicity was convinced the missing heir was the solution to everyone’s problems.

  
Oliver’s return would fill the hole she’d been unsuccessfully trying to plug the last couple years. In spite of the secrets she carried, Felicity had been adopted as practically an honorary member of the Queen family. Thea, Moira—and Tommy as well—they mattered a lot to her.

  
She loved her mom and knew how much her mom loved her, but she and the vivaciously outgoing Donna Smoak were never going to see eye to eye when it came to things like career and her lack of priority in finding a husband. To be praised for what most worried her mother was heaven.

  
She’d felt more accepted during her time with the Queens and her job at QC and the Foundation than any previous period of her life. Plus, there was the possibility her sudden switch in careers might have accidentally saved her life.

  
All of which made the burning need to strike out on her own complicated. If she could build this bridge for Moira and Thea before she handed over the secrets she held, then at least she wouldn’t feel like she was abandoning them after all they’d done for her.

  
A few floors before her stop, the elevator finally emptied. Compulsively, she checked her phone again for missed calls. Nothing. Last year she’d worked with QC’s best engineers to guarantee a strong cell signal in the elevator all the way to the rooftop banquet floor, so she couldn’t even cling to that excuse.

  
Why hadn’t Oliver called? And why was she asking the same unanswerable question for the millionth time?  
Felicity got in another round of head to wall thwacking before the ding of the elevator announced the executive floor.

  
She exited and took a hard turn to the right toward the closest break room. She needed coffee, stat. She nearly wept with joy when she saw some other office busy bee had been there before and warmed up the thing of beauty that was the executive level espresso machine. Straight from the pages of a William Sonoma catalog, in exchange for unfettered access, she happily brought Moira coffee anytime she asked. Even when she didn’t ask. She wasn’t certain Moira liked coffee.

  
Going through the steps of crafting the perfect brew calmed her nerves, but also made her face facts. Her plan surrounding Oliver Queen was not going well. She’d been certain she wouldn’t even make it back to Starling City before she heard from him. But he hadn’t called on the drive back to Starling or during the very long night while she tossed and turned, picking apart every word and look they’d exchanged. And now morning, and still no call, no message.

  
She had the hack on his phones thanks to his truck’s GPS and WI-FI, so getting a new message to him wouldn’t be hard, but she couldn’t force him to listen even if she had the perfect thing to say. Well, had the perfect thing to say.

  
Oliver might not see her ideal opportunity as the easy, uncomplicated way back home now that she’d given him the thumb drive. It was sure to open a can of wriggly worms and she hadn’t readied him for answers at all. How could she have let herself get so distracted from her mission?

  
Images from his matter of fact strip-tease flashed through her mind. She rolled her eyes. Ok, the how wasn’t really in question. Childish as he’d been at the end, she’d read the obstinacy in his eyes; at that point, he hadn’t been willing to hear anything she tried to say. Giving him the thumb drive had been her last option. Was he just not going to call? Did he not play the files? Could he possibly not have cared? Maybe the warm, funny stories Thea shared about her brother had been nothing more than the past colored by rosy, wishful thinking. Maybe she’d misjudged everything she thought she knew about the man.

  
She took a deep breath, slowing inhaling and exhaling. She let the hiss of the steam frothing the milk further soothe her. Then, the first sip. Ahh, perfection. She closed her eyes in bliss. She could face anything with a proper latte in her hand.

  
She exited the break room, passed the bank of elevators and then the large conference room without seeing a soul. Given the bustling nature of the rest of the company, she was always struck by the quiet of the floor.

  
Only the CEO, CFO and their staff had offices on this level, and the CFO’s suite was at the far end of the floor by the other elevator bank. The clipped step of her heels on the polished marble echoed down the empty hallway. This had been her domain now for two, nearly three years, but she still remembered how incredibly nervous the walk from the elevators to the clear walled offices once made her.

  
She still wasn’t a fan of glass walls. How was being a goldfish without the water helpful to anyone? The first time she’d been officially called to the CEO’s office, watching Walter Steele pace while waiting for her only fueled her panicked insecurity.

  
She had, of course, been on the executive floor before that day, but back then, her IT Supervisor had taken the initial meetings before sending her up to fix the actual problems. The man’s skill hadn’t extended past connecting USB cables and schmoozing, but he’d always taken the credit, even getting the bonuses she’d rightfully earned. And yes, she might have told him exactly that only a couple hours before she’d gotten that unexpected order to go see the CEO of the company.

  
She’d been terrified Mr. Steele was going to fire her, which in hindsight was absurd. She’d been too much of a nobody for the actual CEO of Queen Consolidated to personally fire her, but by the time she’d entered his office, fear and indignation made for strange bedfellows. Miraculously, he still hadn’t fired her even after an epic case of run on mouth. Instead, he’d brought her in on a mystery, one that had altered her life and one now, years later, she was still surreptitiously unraveling whether anyone wanted her to or not.

  
She hated mysteries; as both an irresistible, intellectual puzzle and for what they did to the people caught up in them. Walter had barely made it out alive. She missed Walter. He’d warned her to stop digging and she took his warnings seriously, but stopping hadn’t seemed like an option after she found out what happened to her former IT Supervisor.

  
She’d achieved a delicate balance in working for Moira Queen. One day she was going to catch on to all Felicity had figured out and for as much as she’d been treated like an extended member of the family, Felicity doubted Moira would hesitate to squash her if she thought she was a threat to her actual family. She might feel bad about doing it, but Felicity had heard many times from the Queen’s own lips that collateral damage was a part of doing business. And to protect her children? Would Moira let anyone stand in her way?

  
Felicity shivered, unnerved by dark thoughts. She was overreacting. There would be no squashing. She was letting circumstantial evidence mess with her head again. Besides, she’d been very careful covering her tracks.

  
Today, Moira had meetings outside the office all day, so questions about her errand could be avoided at least until Monday. Saturday evening came with a mandatory, family dinner at the Queen mansion, but Moira’s focus would be on Thea as it had been since she’d come home. Thea, though, might hound her for details if she found out where Felicity had gone. For all the times she’d gone back and forth and feigned indifference, Thea was counting on Oliver’s return just as much, if not more than Felicity. Curtis didn’t bother feigning anything, but then, he was mostly in it for the gossip and their potential startup actually starting up.

  
That date seemed a lot further away at the moment. Felicity set her purse down, sipped her latte, logged in her computer and double checked Moira’s schedule even as she began slogging through the stacks of memos, emails and proposals Jerry had saved for her while filling in on her day off. It looked like every department head had taken advantage of the gatekeeper not being at her post. Half the reports piled on her desk were incomplete and the missing numbers would take her hours to fill in.

Before Felicity could decide if it would be easier to track them down or reject the reports altogether, her office line rang. Curtis’s extension number from the R&D department flashed on the little screen. He started in before she could say a word.

  
“Did you see him? Can you talk? Was Captain Queen the Patricide King still as hot as ever? Tell me. I need details. I can’t believe you didn’t return my calls. Or my texts. I was this close to pinging your phone and showing up to save you. ”

  
“Curtis.” She tried interrupting, but he didn’t stop.

  
“Fine, I did ping your phone, but you were already home, otherwise I would have totally gone to your rescue. Need to look after the future CEO of our future company, after all.”

  
She made a grumbling noise.

  
“You don’t think I could? Hey, I took the same self-defense course Mr. Diggle gave you. Well, one of them. I could handle myself. Probably.”

  
“Curtis! Just slow down,” she ordered. “I can’t believe you checked my GPS.”

  
“Seriously? It’s like, your go-to move. You taught me how to do it.”

  
“For good reasons! You were freaking out and imagining Paul was cheating on you. I didn’t show you how so you could spy on your soon to be business partner.”

  
“Does that mean the mission was a success?” he asked, his dampened excitement coming back full steam. “Should I tell the hubby to chill the Champagne? When is the prodigal boy-toy coming home? Finally we can set a date. Is two weeks notice enough time? Should we do a month? It’s classier, right?”

  
She sighed. “Nothing is moving that fast.”

  
“But things are moving, right? You talked to the hottest serial killer salesmen in the yacht club, right?”

  
She groaned. “You’ve got to stop calling him that.”

  
“Oh, no. Felicity, tell me you didn’t.”

  
“You know me, of course I did!”

  
Curtis’s laughter flooded the line.

  
“You actually called him a serial killer?”

  
“While practically asking him to do a half-naked photo shoot.”

  
“I’d be down to see that.”

  
“Focus, Curtis.”

  
“On what? You still haven’t told me anything. Did you at least get to explain about the Memorial Initiative? The Foundation? That’s he’d be working with his sister?”

  
“I meant to, but he was really distracting and I don’t mean just his looks. He wasn’t exactly what I was expecting. He got upset.”

  
“Are you ok? Did hurt you?”

  
“What? Of course he didn’t.”

  
“There’s no of course. He may be the boss’s son but you know what they say about him.”

  
“Seriously Curtis, you and I both know he didn’t try to kill his father.”

  
“Do we?”

  
Felicity went silent. There was a lot she shared with Curtis, but there was a lot that she couldn’t. Still, normally Curtis’s opinion on the man never went past teasing. “You’re the one that said he was too soft to go there and probably too much a mama’s boy to need to go there.”

  
“People change. He’s lived in the woods for a long time. I’m just saying, it messes with people’s heads.”

  
“He’s not the Uni-Bomber. Or a hermit. He owned and ran his own building company for years. He only rented the cabin in the woods last month.”

  
“So you’re saying he’s still soft?”

  
“Soft?” She repeated incredulously. Just the opposite. Not only had his body been sculpted and toned, but she suspected so had the man inside. She’d seen his determination, experienced it, if only used to avoid talking to her. She shook her head even though Curtis couldn’t see her. “No, not soft, but it’s not like he was some hardened criminal.”

  
“But he got upset?”

  
She paused, unwilling to share either Oliver’s lecture on taking risks which Curtis was sure to enjoy too much or Oliver’s more vulnerable moment when she’d seen the blame he still carried around like a question. “Wouldn’t you be upset if someone tried to uproot your life and drag you back to deal with a near decade old mess?”

  
“What did he do exactly?”

  
“Yelled for a minute, warned me off, that’s all. It was nothing.”

  
“Sounds like estranged or not, he’s still a card carrying member of the drama Queens.”

  
Felicity made a non-committal sound. He was a handful, but he wasn’t like anyone else she’d met in his family. He didn’t have the icy control of his mother, or the wry cynicism that vied with his sister’s open enthusiasm. Felicity had experienced traces of the charming persona Oliver shared with Tommy, but he had been genuine with her as well, to the point where there’d been moments when it felt like she was seeing something no one else got to. Which was nonsense. She’d only spent twenty minutes with the man.

  
“So what happens next?”

  
“We wait. He’ll call today. I’m sure of it.”

***

  
Oliver did not call.

  
Felicity was still in shock when she left work, wracking her brain for how she’d guessed so wrong, which is why, she figured, it wasn’t until after she’d fished out her keys and unlocked the front door to her townhome that she realized someone had followed her up onto the landing she shared with the neighboring unit.

  
She rushed to get inside, trying and failing to shut the door behind her. For a moment, fear took a backseat to indignation. It was not even six pm! The sun was bright and her neighborhood was on the safe side of the Glades! Well, safer side. The empty units on either side of hers meant a lot of strangers had been coming by lately, but she wasn’t supposed to get mugged or worse on her doorstep. But then, she wasn’t supposed to be doing a lot of things she’d been doing.

  
Terror finally came, sharp and metallic, and her fear heightened instinct. For a second, she froze, unable to recall the self-defense lessons Diggle taught her, but then muscle memory kicked in and the sharp elbow she jabbed backward connected solidly even if it didn’t elicit so much as a groan. Still, she must have caught her attacker by surprise because she was able to turn to face him, getting ready to scream and go for the eyes when a familiar pair of blue ones frowned down at her.

  
“Oliver?”


	3. Chapter 3

Felicity grabbed a half empty bottle of red wine from next to the refrigerator, paused, and spoke over her shoulder. “I can offer you a beer instead if you’d prefer.”

  
Her guest grunted, which she took for assent. She went back to the fridge and took one of the microbrews Curtis had left behind from their last Doctor Who marathon. She slid it across the counter and then went to her rack to select a wine goblet. Her fingers rested briefly on one before drifting over to choose its much larger cousin. It had already shaped up to be that kind of night.

  
“Do you have a bottle opener?”

  
She rummaged around in a drawer and handed him what he needed, appreciative he hadn’t tried to knock the cap off on the edge of her granite counters. She filled her goblet halfway with the deep maroon liquid and then thought, what the hell, and emptied the rest of the bottle. Queen eyed her filled to the brim glass but wisely didn’t comment.

Defiantly, she took a long sip. It’s not like she was planning to drive anywhere tonight.

  
Ignoring the watchful eyes following her, she returned to her Frigidaire and pulled a less than crisp head of iceberg lettuce from the vegetable drawer. The outer leaves were wilted but once stripped away, she decided the rest were still edible. Silently she went about putting together a salad while Oliver sat at her breakfast bar sipping his beer and watching her with unnerving intensity. The man wanted answers, but he had enough self-control to know when patience was his best bet.

  
She finished tossing together what she thought looked like a pretty little salad; the diced tomatoes glistened under a splash of Italian dressing which kept the chopped iceberg from looking too sad. Setting it on the peninsula, she told Oliver she’d be right back. Another grunt sufficed for assent. Not that she was seeking permission. She was in her own home for God’s sake and if she wanted to slip into something more comfortable, she would. Her step faltered. No. Not like that. Of course not like that. And definitely not after he nearly scared her to death!

  
She went to her bedroom at the end of the hall and made sure the door was firmly shut and locked before she quickly traded executive assistant chic for ‘Oh thank God, it’s the weekend’ schlump. The doorbell rang as she was aligning the zipper on the hoodie that matched her striped, powder pink, track pants.

  
“Coming,” she shouted, zipping up the sweatshirt and rushing to shove her bare feet into a pair of cozy slippers. She needn’t have rushed. Oliver had the cardboard pizza box in hand and was shutting the front door before she ever made it down the hallway. The scent of the rich sauce and yeasty crust hit her nostrils and she started salivating. Yes, refusing to answer his questions until after dinner arrived had been the smart choice.

  
He’d found where she kept her plates by the time she joined him at the breakfast bar. He opened the pizza box and they each took a slice. She’d inhaled three quarters of it, slightly burning the roof of her mouth, before pausing to take a portion of the salad that hopefully would stretch the relatively small specialty pizza.

For her, the pizza was normally enough for at least two meals, but knowing how much Curtis could vacuum up, Queen might leave hungry. Six dainty slices wouldn’t go far. She took another slice for herself unrepentantly. If anytime in the last 24 hours he’d bothered to let her know he was coming, before leaving work she would have ordered the large instead. For that thoughtlessness, she staked her claim to a third slice.

  
***

  
Oliver took another sip of some micro niche, micro-brew to hide his smile when Felicity glared at him and plated her third slice of pizza even though she hadn’t finished her first one. After weeks of messages with nothing but relentless cheer, it was interesting to learn the lady had a temper and a petty side. He wouldn’t say she held a grudge; she was, albeit reluctantly, sharing her dinner rather than kicking him out after the scare he’d delivered, but she also hadn’t been nearly as quick to let the misunderstanding go as he would have expected.

  
He helped himself to a second slice and then some of the sickly salad she’d prepared. He speared a leaf with his fork and brought it to his mouth. Chewy should never describe lettuce. He took another sip of his beer and pondered if the rubbery salad with the dubious dressing—oil and vinegar was probably fine even months past the expiration date—was payback for scaring her or not.

  
She was making a show of eating the salad; mostly, she shifted the anemic leaves around and ate the chunks of tomato. Revenge salad or not, one thing was certain, he had frightened her badly. The desperate fear he’d seen aimed his direction haunted him. After her earlier fearless visit, it disturbed him she’d thought of him that way, even momentarily. It was why he’d been willing to put his demand for answers on the back burner for this long, but he needed those answers.

  
Two short videos and all his goals had changed. Felicity had to have known exactly what she was doing when she left the thumb drive behind.

  
If he’d had a computer at the cabin, he probably would have chased after her that night and demanded answers. But he’d left his laptop in storage, so despite already feeling a momentous shift in his life just from Felicity’s parting words, he’d taken his shower and gone into town for dinner like he’d planned. Only, before he’d left for town, he’d also packed up the few belongings he’d brought with him to the cabin and tossed the bag into the back seat of his truck. At the time, he told himself he hadn’t yet decided to follow Felicity back to Starling City, but even before seeing the messages on the flash drive, he knew his wilderness retreat was over.

  
After dinner at the diner in town, one he forced himself to not hurry through out of sheer stubbornness, he’d started the long drive upstate. He’d still been in denial that anything on the fob could make any difference and yet, he’d driven half the night to be able to play it.

  
The storage unit was one of those self-serve, 24 hour, outdoor garages. Rows and rows of locked anonymity. No one was around when he drove up to his unit, not surprising in the dead of the night. Leaving his headlights on, he unlocked the padlock, rolled up the garage door and surveyed the contents.

Stuff accumulated without trying. Boxes and bins lined the walls and were stacked around an old leather recliner and a few other pieces of furniture he’d had in his apartment. Apart from the clothing and the computer, he probably should have had it all hauled away.

  
It didn’t take him long to find his laptop and only a little longer to find an outlet to power it up. Two video files were listed on the fob, one with his name and one with Thea’s. The same instinct that made him pack up the cabin and drive half the night made him start with the file addressed to Thea. When his father’s face appeared on screen, he took a shaky step back and sat down hard, the old leather recliner groaning under his weight.

  
“Dad?” He whispered.

  
His father looked exactly as he remembered him. A quick check back in the file index was no help, only showing him when the files were saved to the fob a few days ago. His gut told him the video had to have been made not too long before his father boarded the Gambit for China. He hit play again.

  
_“If you are seeing this then chances are that I’m…gone.”_

  
Was the video part of his father’s will? His parents had been careful their estate planning was up to date before taking long trips. Between the company, Thea, and him, his parents had always been open about having too many people counting on them to ignore the unpleasant risks that came with living, though he hadn’t known his father to leave behind a special goodbye before. In the moment, Oliver was too grateful he had to wonder why this time his father thought he should.

  
The video went on, his father affirming his love for his daughter no matter what she’d heard. The phrasing stood out as odd to Oliver, but he was distracted when the next part played.

  
_“You are going to grow up to be a remarkable young woman. Smart. Generous. Loving.”_

  
His chest ached at all he’d missed. Thea was that young woman now. He’d worried during her final year of high school when her name began to show up on the same gossip sites that had covered his exploits. Just another rich kid with too much money and no one to tell them no.

Thankfully, by the time she graduated, she had begun to make different kinds of headlines. She’d taken a year off before college and volunteered full time for a long list of projects sponsored by Queen Consolidated. Thea became the face of The Queen Foundation before starting classes at California State U. He’d been incredibly proud of her and her successful turnaround convinced him he’d been right to keep his distance even once Thea turned 18.

  
_“But the day will come when your mother and I are gone. And then it will be just you and your brother. And the truth is, you are stronger than he is. He is going to need to lean on you more than you are going to need to lean on him. The Oliver we know can get through anything if he has the love and support of his sister.”_

  
When his father’s message to his sister ended, Oliver felt the loss of those years more keenly than ever. He’d spent the years away certain of the same truth his father had known. He might miss Thea, but she didn’t need him even if Felicity Smoak in her endless parade of messages said differently. He wanted to believe her, but he’d wanted a lot of things in life that hadn’t been true.

  
He switched over to the remaining message. Like the one before, his father’s face filled the screen.

  
_"Hello, Oliver.”_

  
He paused again right away, needing a moment. Bittersweet pain came hearing his father speak his name. Time was cruel. It stole away details. Like how the rich timbre of his father’s voice wrapped around his name, hurtling him back to the safety and simplicity of his childhood.

Too much about the life he’d left behind hadn’t been real; even his relationship with his mother hadn’t been what he’d thought, but he missed that feeling of believing his family was an unshakable unit, that nothing bad could happen when they were together.

  
If he’d faced Laurel instead of running from his problem, if he hadn’t asked Sara to sneak on board, if they’d never made the detour to Hawaii, how different everything might have been. His cowardly, selfish, and immature actions destroyed his family. As incredibly grateful as he was to have a message from his father from beyond the grave, watching his father expressing unconditional love for him like he had with Thea was going to be like a knife to the gut.

  
He firmed his jaw and pressed play.

  
_“I told myself I was recording this message in case I died suddenly, but I wonder if it isn't just easier to say what I have to say to a video camera.”_

  
The hair on the back of his neck rose and he almost stopped the video again. He wasn’t a man that believed in premonitions, but somehow he knew what came next wasn’t going to be anything like the message his father left for Thea. Everything was about to change.


	4. Chapter 4

  
_"Hello, Oliver._

  
_ I told myself I was recording this message in case I died suddenly, but I wonder if it isn't just easier to say what I have to say to a video camera._

  
_ I'm not the man you think I am, Oliver. I didn't save our city, I failed it. I did something terrible, and in my efforts to make it right, I ignored my conscience and made alliances with terrible people._

  
_ There's a book. A book with a list of all their names. And with these people, I always told myself that everything I did, I did for my family. That's a lie. Because what good is a family without a soul?_

  
_ You can right my wrongs. You can be better than I was. You can save this city._

  
_ I love you."_

  
—Robert Queen to his son Oliver

Oliver watched the message on a loop for what felt like hours. Confusion, anger, guilt, and a strange, guilty kind of hope mixed together. There was joy in hearing his father speak to him one final time, but he now carried the burden of knowing whatever danger prompted his father to make the video, whatever had made him fear for his life, that unknown thing had been easier to evade than his son’s weak character and yet…

He’d fled Starling City trying to escape the unshakable fact that intentional or not, his actions killed his father. There was no redemption for that. He thought he’d made peace with the truth, but suddenly, there was a way to make amends for the unforgivable. Oliver couldn’t undo his past, but he could give his father the one thing he’d asked for.

Not just absolution, but retribution.

Oliver could give him that. Owed him that.

And the only person that could provide Oliver any answers how was now sitting next to him in a small, single story, townhome on the edge of the Glades picking at her salad and sipping her wine. His patience had run out.

“Where did you get them?”

Felicity put down her fork. He didn’t have to clarify what he was asking.

“I know you probably have a hundred questions.”

He did. He wasn’t even sure how to ask half of them.

“A file hidden on the Queen Consolidated server.”

“What?”

“Where I got them. I ran authentication. Both are real, no tricks. Both were made a little more than eight and a half years ago, specifically, the day before the Queen’s Gambit sailed.”

Real. They were real. He hadn’t really doubted it but confirmation made everything too real. He inhaled slowly and deliberately through his nose. He zeroed in on what she’d said earlier. “Hidden?”

“Maybe lost is a better word. They were tied to you, to be triggered by your fingerprint scan the next time you signed in on the Queen Consolidated servers. I understand you didn’t spend much time at the company—well, in any official capacity—but the shares you possessed meant you usually signed in at least a couple times a year. When you left Starling City and your shares were revoked, your access was also disabled. For years, it was as if the files didn’t exist.”

“How did you find them?”

Felicity hesitated. “About four months ago, I was looking for something else when I found the unfulfilled directive. There were security protocols, but I am sort of the one that ended up updating and redesigning everything so…”

“So you knew how to get around them.”

Felicity nodded. “It wasn’t as hard as you might think. Just a matter of temporarily restoring your access and then using a scan of your fingerprint.”

“They have my fingerprints on file at the Starling City Police Department.”

“So I’ve heard.” She laughed a little. “I didn’t have to hack the SCPD,” she assured him though something in the curve of her smile made him think she could have. “HR had it in their files. Just sitting there. Which was appallingly lax. Now security is better, like layers on layers. I’ve made sure of it. You’d have to scoop out someone’s eye to get into some files…which I’ve never thought of doing.”

He added Felicity Smoak dreaming of melon balling eyeballs to the list of things he found fascinating about the woman, but he kept his focus on topic. “Who else has seen them? The videos.”

“No one.”

“Not Thea?”

“No. She…no.” Felicity shook her head.

“My mother?”

“I told you, just you and I. From the video, you can tell your father recorded them on his own and from the meta-data, he’s the one that loaded them onto the server. I don’t think anyone else even knows they exist. Given what your dad said, I thought maybe it was important to keep it that way for now.”

_“I did something terrible, and in my efforts to make it right, I ignored my conscience and made alliances with terrible people.”_

His father’s words played in his head and sounded as foreboding as the first time he’d heard them. What had his father done? What deal with the devil had he made? It wasn’t hard to find one in Starling City. Everything came with a cost and everything could be had for the right price. Did he really want to know the details of what left his father so ashamed? Whatever it had been, it was tied up with the city. His parents had been members of dozens of charities designed to better the community. Somewhere, a line had been crossed.

_“There's a book. A book with a list of all their names. And with these people, I always told myself that everything I did, I did for my family. That's a lie. Because what good is a family without a soul?”_

  
He knew his parents weren’t saints, but he couldn’t imagine what his father could have done that robbed him of his soul. He father, though, hadn’t asked him to only use his imagination.

“The book. My father mentioned a book. Do you have it?”

  
“No...” Felicity dropped her eyes and frowned.

“You don’t sound so sure.”

“No, I’m sure I don’t have it…anymore.”

Her evasion irritated him. “Talk.”

“It’s complicated.”

“You are a smart woman. Explain it to me,” he barked.

Slowly, she crossed her arms and gave him a hard look. “And if you are a smart man, you will drop the tone. I’m the one that is trying to help you, remember?”

“If I agree to your demands, you mean.”

“What?”

“That’s the deal, right?” His resented being back and having to play the kind of games he thought he’d left behind. “I come back, agree to whatever you’ve planned and in exchange, you’ll tell me what you know about my father’s message.” Nothing ever came for free. Not in Starling City. Not in the Queen family. Took him long enough to figure it out, but he’d learned his lesson.

For a moment, Felicity looked stricken and then fury sparked in the blue eyes hiding behind her rectangular framed glasses. Her normally expressive mouth flattened and before she said a word, he realized he’d made a mistake.

  
“I promised you answers about things you need to know,” she all but hissed. “If staying in Starling City is impossible for you to bear, I’m not going to hold you hostage to get them, nor did I ever say otherwise, did I? Did I?!” On the second ‘Did I’ her voice rose sharply in volume and she poked him dead center of his chest.

  
He winced, only partly in response to the very firm jab against his sternum. He gently wrapped his hand around hers, flattening it to his chest and sighed. He wasn’t being fair. She hadn’t been subtle about wanting him to return to Starling City, but she’d placed no conditions when she handed over the videos. She wasn’t part of the bitterness of his past.

  
“No. No, you didn’t. I’m sorry.”

  
The air remained charged around them until she nodded her acceptance of his apology and slowly tugged her hand free. She turned back to the counter, scooped up her wine goblet and took a long drink.

  
“To be fair, while I’m not going to force you to stick around, I’m not above hounding you until you change your mind.”

  
A smile tugged at his lips. She’d already proved that in the last month. God, she was persistent. But Felicity’s forthright appeal was so much cleaner than the way the politics of this city or his family normally played out.

“You really want to make your pitch.”

"Uh-huh. Yup.” She popped the P on yup.

  
He huffed out half a laugh and waved her to continue. Suddenly, he was curious about what she had planned. Felicity turned to face him more fully, excitement crackling in her eyes and in her smile. Most of her makeup had worn off. Her high ponytail now hung low and tendrils of hair had escaped to softly frame her earnest face. Damn, she was gorgeous.

  
“Hear me out, but don’t give me your answer. There’s a lot we still need to talk about, so afterward, take the weekend to think about it. Then on Monday, if it still isn’t what you want, then you can say no.”

  
With the way she was looking at him, was that even possible? The thought jolted him. He reached for his abandoned fork and stabbed at his sickly salad and chewed on a mouthful. It remained a culinary crime against humanity.

  
Felicity launched into her pitch.

  
“Ok. I know you aren’t thrilled about seeing your mother. I think you should give her a chance, but that’s between you two. This position is with the charitable foundation. No direct contact with Queen Consolidated unless you set up an office there, which you do not need to do. They can bring in a trailer on site once the construction starts.” She waved her hands. “I’m getting ahead of myself.

  
“You’d be your own boss, overseeing other independent contractors working on multiple renovations for chosen families living in the Glades. Stage two of the project would be converting abandoned warehouses into affordable housing and making retail space available for local services like markets that sell fresh food.

  
“Think about what you would be doing. Putting home ownership into the hands of working families and rehabbing homes that are in some cases, literally falling down around them. It’s a direct way to help reclaim the Glades from the slumlords, apathy, and growing lawlessness. The Glades used to belong to the people that kept Starling City working. The city can’t function without them. This is one program among hundreds in the works to take back the Glades without pricing out the people that live there. City and industry leaders are poised to make the long-term investment. You’d be kicking off the pilot program in the Robert Queen Memorial Initiative.”

  
She let the title hang in the air. Tying it directly to his father’s legacy was very clever. He noticed she didn’t remind him of his father’s request in the video to save the city. She probably knew she didn’t have to.

  
“Now, commitment is flexible,” she went on as if she hadn’t dropped an emotional bomb. “Anywhere from two months to ten years assuming the program goes well. And best of all, Thea is acting as the design consultant. The position would let you work together, giving you an easy way to reconnect.”

  
He took a swig of his beer and Felicity took it as her cue to continue her sales pitch.

  
“Maybe you think even two months sounds like forever, but after we talk more, you are going to have even more questions. Starling City is the only place to find those answers and it’s going to take time. The contract with the Queen Foundation is the perfect cover for your return. You have the skillset and in this town, more importantly, you have the legacy. I’ve talked to the board; if you want it, the job is yours.”

  
Oliver took another drink. He hated to dim the smile on her face, but her plan had holes in it. Working with Thea was out of the question and no one was going to throw a parade at his return.

  
“Where are you in this arrangement? I read your company bio. You worked closely with the Foundation during its inception.”

  
“Oh, that was when Thea first…when Thea first began to volunteer. Back then I was quasi everywhere: handling overflow in IT, setting up the Foundation, and in what passed as spare time, assisting Moira’s assistants. Last year when Thea went away to college, my job requirements shifted more fully to Mrs. Queen.”

  
“How did you end up working for three different departments at once?”

  
She hesitated and then leaned his direction.

  
“That’s a much longer story. An important one.” She scrunched up her forehead. “It involves your sister.”

  
Just the topic he didn’t want to discuss.

  
“That can keep for now,” he told her, abruptly changing the subject. “I’ll think about your offer, but let’s get back to what you know about my father’s book.”

  
Felicity winced and turned away to take another sip of her wine. Something dawned on him.

  
“Before. You changed the subject deliberately.” Just as he’d done now.

  
“No. You maligned my character,” she reminded him, not looking at him.

  
“I apologized.”

  
“So you did.”

  
He waited, but Felicity ignored him in favor of taking an enthusiastic bite of her now cold pizza. She seemed to be deliberately avoiding giving him the very answers she’d promised to provide. And yet, his gut was still telling him he could trust her. Was she punishing him for not wanting to talk about Thea? She couldn’t know how far he planned on taking it. Even if she did, ransoming answers didn’t fit. He didn’t know what to think. Uncertainty made him restless.

  
He stood and took his empty beer bottle, plate and the remnants of the awful excuse for a salad over to the sink. He rinsed out the beer bottle, found the recycling bin under Felicity’s sink and added it to the stash. The salad went where it should have started, in the trash. Turning, he leaned back against the counter, crossed his arms in front of his chest and studied Felicity Smoak. She fidgeted under his gaze.

  
“Why the delay?” He asked bluntly. “What are you hiding?”

***

Felicity felt the weight of Oliver’s stare but resisted its pull, picking at the toppings on her third slice rather than looking up. She didn’t want to lie to Oliver, had never planned to, but still had hoped to save some of the more troubling revelations until after Oliver had spoken with his mother. Moira deserved at least a chance to reconcile with her son.

  
“It’s complicated,” she finally said. Boy, was that an understatement.

  
“You said that before.”

  
Felicity pushed up her glasses to sit more firmly on her nose and finally looked at him. “Well, it’s still complicated.”

  
Oliver scrubbed his hands over his face, trying to hold onto his temper. “You said you used to have the book. Can you at least explain where you got it from?”

That she could answer.

“Walter Steele had a copy. It was a small, narrow journal about half the size of a paperback.”

“Walter was involved in this? My dad’s best friend?” Oliver frowned and then a grim line hardened his jaw. Felicity could see him leaping to conclusions. Shaking her head, she rose from her seat at the peninsula and went to where Oliver was brooding by the sink.

“It’s not how you think. Walter didn’t know anything about the book when he found it.” When he found it in a special, wooden box hidden in the Grandfather clock in the bedroom he had shared with his then wife, Moira. “We were already working on another project.” The fallout from what Moira bought with the 2.6 million dollars she had creatively acquired from Queen Consolidated.

“He thought the book might be related,” Felicity added. It seemed certain it was after she found the same symbol in the book—seemingly random intersecting lines set in a circle—as she’d found left behind by a mysterious entity that had also been digitally tracking Moira’s secret account. Later, she’d found the symbol stamped on some hush, hush mothballed project stored in Queen Consolidated’s Applied Science division. And much, much, later, Robert Queen’s message for his son brought more confirmation that the list and the symbol were tied to the sinking of the Gambit.

Yes. All very complicated.

“The only concrete connection at the time,” she told Oliver, “was that looking into the book was dangerous. There was a related death that couldn’t have been a coincidence and later, someone came after Walter.”

“He told you that?” Oliver still looked skeptical  
.  
“Heard it myself. While I was on the phone with Mr. Steele, a man dropped down from the ceiling of the elevator and tried to kidnap him at gunpoint. Luckily, his new bodyguard was already on the job. He rescued Walter and stopped his kidnapper from escaping on a helicopter.”

Walter had been extremely fortunate John Diggle was so diligent about new clients. Felicity didn’t want to think what would have happened if he hadn’t come a day early to review the security measures. It was no surprise when John was hired full time by QC even after Walter’s life was no longer in danger.

“When the police took the kidnapper into custody, he said he wanted to make a deal, but before that could happen, he, like others before him, met with an accident.” She used air quotes around accident. At least this one hadn’t involved a hit and run. Tough to fit a car into the police lock up. Much easier for him to “slip” and hit his head. Would she be able to tell Oliver any of this without sounding like a mad conspiracy theorist?

“All because of the book my father described?”

“It has to be the one.”

“What about names? Do you remember names?”

“Some.” Walter had asked her not to make any copies and she’d been naively obedient so she’d only keep separate records on the names she’d done further digging on. That wasn’t a small number but nowhere close to even half. “Many belonged to the who’s who of Starling City. I also researched a number of names I hadn’t recognized; a disturbing percentage of those belonged to people no one wants to meet in a dark alley.”

Oliver gave her the same look he had when he lectured her about going inside the homes of strangers.

She rolled her eyes and held up her hand. “Which is why with any names I’ve looked into, I made sure I did it very carefully and fully covered my tracks.”

He didn’t look completely mollified, but he withheld comment at least.

“The last time I saw the book was shortly after Malcolm Merlyn’s murder by the Chinese Triad. Walter took it back, told me the danger was over, and to stop digging,” she told Oliver. She did not tell him Walter moved out of the Queen Mansion that same day or that he legally separated from Moira within weeks. She assumed she didn’t have to tell him she never did stop digging. At this point, she had her suspicions, but getting real answers would take people who were never going to talk to her finally answering some questions or at least the Merlyn Global merger going through.

But what if Walter had been wrong? What if all this hadn’t really ended with Malcolm Merlyn’s death? And what if she hadn’t been careful enough in her investigation? She shivered.

Oliver shook his head. “Something isn’t adding up. Where did Walter get the book if he didn’t know anything about it before he gave it to you?”

Felicity tensed and then pushed away from the counter. “Do you want coffee? I’m going to make some coffee.” Before she could cross the kitchen to her coffee maker, Oliver came up behind her. He stopped her from reaching the pot by gently enveloping her hand with his.

It was a large hand, a strong hand, and even though he’d been the boss for the last five years, the raised calluses on his palm told her his hand still knew a hard day’s work. She stilled and closed her eyes, too aware of the heat radiating from his light touch and from his muscled body as he stood behind her.

  
“Felicity,” he said her name softly, barely above a whisper, but with him so close, he didn’t need to raise his voice. She shivered again, but this time not out of fear. “What is it you haven’t told me?” Oliver asked.

“There’s a lot I haven’t told you.” She told him honestly.

“But you are you going to tell me.” He stated.

She sighed and turned to face him. “Yes.” He didn’t move back. It was almost like standing in his embrace. The sensation increased when he leaned forward and rested a hand on the counter to either side of her, not to intimidate her, but as if he wanted to create a safe space for her to speak. Her heart rate went up.

“Then why not just tell me whatever it is that has you so nervous?” He entreated. “Is it the same reason you looked terrified when I surprised you tonight? What are you afraid of?”

The low pitch of his voice was warm, intimate, and kind. She’d been alone with her fears for a long time, having to put on a brave face with the only other person that knew anything of what she’d found. Tears unexpectedly pricked behind her eyes. She looked down at his chest, rapidly blinking, but one of his hands rose from where it rested on the counter and gently lifted her chin.

“Hey. Look at me. You’re not alone in this anymore. Just tell me.”

She could have denied it. Put off that part of the conversation for another day. Could have pretended he had an overactive imagination and blamed earlier on the neighborhood’s risky reputation, but something about the man standing in front of her had called to her from the start. She wanted to put her faith in him.

“I’m afraid,” she confessed, “that it’s not over.”

“What’s not over?”

Her mouth twisted to the side, reluctant to speak the words that could only cause him sorrow. But he deserved to know the truth. “Whatever it is that got your father killed.”

Pain swiftly appeared on his face before he schooled his features. He dropped his hand but didn’t step back. He shook his head, resigned. “My father’s ship went down in a storm. The storm, bad timing…me. That’s what got my father killed.”

She couldn’t help the look of pity she gave him. There was no way to avoid opening Pandora’s Box. “No, it wasn’t your fault. The Queen’s Gambit was sabotaged. Your father was murdered.”

***

An hour and a half later, she sat on her couch with her legs tucked up next to her watching Oliver pace, striding back and forth the length of her townhome, trying to process everything she told him. And she’d told him everything.

The stolen money, the secret box in the Grandfather clock, the proof someone else was watching Moira’s account, and so many “accidents” all starting with the sabotage of the Queen’s Gambit. She wasn’t sure how much of her explanation sunk in and how much was still battering against the truths Oliver had been so certain of.

Oliver had taken her announcement stoically. Too stoically. After she told him the truth, it was as if he shut down his emotions. She knew a maelstrom had to be seething inside, but she couldn’t gauge what he was feeling beyond a dogged focus on establishing the facts. His interrogation was a galling reminder of how little she actually knew.

“You’re telling me that about two and a half years ago, Walter Steele tasked you to quietly track a two point six million dollar accounting discrepancy. Which you traced back to my mother and a shell corporation named Tempest. Whose sole asset was a warehouse. And that you went to the warehouse with Walter.”

“Met him there. I drove separately.” He went on as if he hadn’t heard her.

“And stored inside the warehouse was the ship, the wreckage of the Gambit.”

“Yes and before you ask again, I’m sure it was the Queen’s Gambit and just as sure the very obvious signs of a large explosion could not have been from an accident. Again, I checked. The engine and anything else combustible were on the other end.” Oliver didn’t even glance her direction.

“Walter knew right away what we were seeing as well,” she said also in case that might strengthen her claims. Men could be funny about taking a woman’s opinion. She didn’t know if she was pleased or annoyed it didn’t seem to change his skeptical look at all. She pressed on with her review of the facts.

“He told me to leave and then immediately called the head of QC’s security with orders to transfer the contents to a secure location.”

“John Diggle.”

“No.” Felicity shook her head. “John Diggle is the current head of security. Josiah Hudson is the one that was killed in a hit and run. When we were at the Tempest warehouse, Walter hadn’t yet even hired John as his bodyguard.”

“So you left right after Walter called the old head of security.”

“Yes. Well, after I made sure the surveillance video was compromised.”

“So no one knew you were there.”

“I scrubbed the video, but I found out later there had been a separate sensor on the door. No video, but they knew someone had gone inside.”

“But you left. No one besides Walter knew you saw anything.”

“Not at the warehouse, which is why I assume no one ever came after me, at least not directly. Walter refused to tell me everything that had happened after I went home, but the next day I found out the wreckage vanished on its way to a new, secure location and QC’s head of security had been killed in a hit and run accident.”

Shortly after that, Walter had given her the blank book with the mysterious symbol, certain the seemingly empty pages had to have been protecting important secrets. With some time and study, she outwitted the methods meant to keep the list out of sight.

“And then later your boss in IT also died in a hit and run accident. How did they tie your digging back to Queen Consolidated’s IT department?” Oliver asked, still pacing.

“I didn’t leave any digital tracks,” she took comfort in that at least. “I can only guess, but someone knew about Walter’s investigation and must have known he’d have needed help uncovering things like the warehouse. I didn’t even know something happened to Kaplan at first. All I knew was the same week I started working with Thea and the Foundation, my former boss quit without giving his notice.” At the time, she’d cursed her luck to be reassigned right before the IT supervisor position opened up. Even without getting the job, she’d still ended up handling the fires Kaplan left behind, once again, without credit.

Later, she realized Derek Kaplan’s habit of taking sole credit for everything probably saved her life. It was the reason she couldn’t stop digging for the truth. Someone else died in her place. She had to live with that guilt, plus, if they realized they’d silenced the wrong person, was there anyone left that might still come for her? She had to make sure this was finished or she’d never stop looking over her shoulder.

“Are you sure Kaplan’s hit and run wasn’t a random accident?” Oliver asked. “Mexico City’s traffic is intense; it’s not a city known for safety.”

“Derek Kaplan simply being in Mexico City was a huge red flag. He told the same half dozen stories over and over, including one about a college trip that ended with him writing off the whole country because he’d been too stupid to realize brushing his teeth with their water could lead to Montezuma’s revenge.”

“Why would he go there then?”

“I think…I think he was running, although I don’t know what triggered him. With all the connecting flights in and out, Mexico City would have been a good place to go to get lost, especially if he could pick up a new id.” She didn’t know how they found him, but Kaplan in his arrogance had probably logged on to his Facebook page or something else equally dumb and led them straight to him.

“And it all leads back to my mother.”

“No. No. I keep telling you, I don’t know that at all. It’s all circumstantial. The book was hidden in her bedroom, but it could have been left there by your dad.”

“Tempest, the company that owned the warehouse was staked off the books by my mother.”

“Yes, and someone besides me was investigating Tempest, someone with clear ties to the book. Even if we had proof your mom salvaged the wreck, that doesn’t mean she had anything to do with, um…” she trailed off looking for the best way to phrase it.

Oliver stopped pacing. “Kidnapping, sabotage, murder?” He suggested. “My father, her husband, was murdered. Why keep the truth hidden?”

“Maybe she was protecting you. Proof the Gambit was sabotaged would have just added fuel to the speculation.”

“Or maybe she was protecting herself.”

Felicity winced. “She’s your mother. You can’t believe she’s capable of that.”

“Maybe because she is my mother, I know that she is.” He said it more like a belligerent challenge than a fact. Felicity held back her exasperation and tried to reason with him.

“I know things have been rough between you and your mother, and I don’t know what your relationship used to be like.” Unfolding her legs, Felicity rose from the couch and walked slowly toward where Oliver stood, his face emotionless, but his whole body vibrating with tension.

“God knows she can be tough, intimidating and not always the warmest person in the world, but the woman I’ve known is also incredibly generous, loyal, and supportive. She put her trust and faith in me when she didn’t have to. I’ve been welcomed into her home and treated almost like family.”

Oliver gave her a look that said what he thought of that dubious honor. She ignored him.

“And in the years I’ve known her, the one unquestionable fact I know about your mother is how much she loves you and your sister.” She touched his forearm, stopping him when he would have turned away and resumed pacing like a caged tiger. He stared at her hand resting on his arm, refusing to look her in the eye.

“Look, I…” she hesitated, wetting her lips nervously, “I haven’t heard from my father since I was seven and my mother,” she paused again and sighed, “I love her, but there’s a reason I live a thousand miles away. So maybe I shouldn’t be giving out advice on estranged parental relationships, but she’s your mother. Doesn’t that earn her at least the benefit of the doubt until we’ve found out the absolute facts?” Her question hung in the air. Silence stretched out until she didn’t think he was going to answer. And then he looked up at her.

“What if,” his voice cracked and with that breathy slip of control, the mask was gone and turmoil flashed in his eyes, a wild, storm cloud spinning stark and savage. “What if I don’t want to know?” It was an anguished question and her heart broke for him. “What if my mother killed my dad and then let the world think I…” He trailed off, unable to finish.

“Oh, Oliver.”

He shook his head, rejecting her pity, already pulling away, leaving her hand stretched out in midair as he headed for the door. “I’ve gotta go. We’ll…we’ll talk later. I’ll think about your offer.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Thank you, Marcus,” Felicity said accepting a glass of white wine from the Queen family butler. Tall, dark, with patrician features, the man was perfectly cast for the part. All he lacked was the English accent. “Am I the first one here?”

  
“No, Miss. Miss Thea is waiting by the pool with Mr. Merlyn. They are expecting you. Mrs. Queen is in her study handling an unexpected matter,” he informed her as he led her through the formal, front sitting-room, beyond the adjoining salon, past the parlor and on toward the patio. It was a sprawling house. Practically a castle in miniature. Felicity glanced back toward Moira’s study.

  
“Is it something for Queen Consolidated?” she asked. Maybe she should offer her help.

  
“She didn’t say. Please, she will join you shortly.” He left her in front of the open French doors leading outside.

  
She paused and took quick stock of what she was wearing, smoothing the red, sleeveless sheath she’d donned, tugging the hem down just a little. Normally she dressed a bit more conservatively during command engagements at the Queen mansion, but today she needed the boost of confidence the pop of color brought. She’d spent extra time on the artfully casual twist she’d worn her hair up in for the same reason.

  
Her mother always said looking your best was the best defense. Growing up, she and her mother clashed constantly about what that meant but some form of the lesson stuck and so tonight she made sure all the armor was in place. Not that she was going into battle, but she always felt the country mouse or—more accurately—the poor relation during these dinners. That, on top of her fraying nerves after not having heard from Oliver since he’d rushed from of her place, meant bringing out all the stops.

  
Discretely, she checked her phone for messages one final time and then turned the ringer off, returning it to her clutch purse. Moira was adamant. No phones at dinner. Normally, she didn’t mind the break from technology, but today, once again, she found herself checking her phone every two minutes like some love sick teenager. Which, she clearly was not.

  
She’d worry Oliver had left town if she hadn’t pinged his phone to a local motel just outside of Starling City limits. Ok, maybe Curtis had a point about it being her go to move. But she’d been concerned about him. She probably told him too much, too soon.

  
Once the really tricky stuff started coming out, she’d been so glad to spill the truth and abdicate sole responsibility, she hadn’t stopped to consider if he’d want the whole truth. She remained convinced Moira couldn’t be responsible for all the terrible things Oliver suddenly seemed afraid she might be, but there was no denying some kind of connection. To get to the bottom of this mystery, Felicity had to at least leave open the possibility of a worst case scenario. She also had to face the possibility that Oliver might choose to simply walk away after everything she had told him.

  
How do you ask someone to risk facing a truth more horrible than the lie?

  
What would she do if Oliver asked her to walk away from the mystery as Walter had? It was Oliver’s father. Oliver’s mother. If he made the call to let sleeping dogs lie, could she? She blew out a deep breath. Would she have any choice? She’d reached an impasse on what she could dig up with her computer. Part of the reason for bringing Oliver home was because he could ask questions no one else could. But if he wasn’t willing to ask the questions…

  
She gave herself a small shake; she could worry about that later. She took a small sip of her wine–it was going to be a long evening; moderation was important–and stepped out to look for Thea and Tommy on the patio. She snorted softly to herself.

  
Patio.

  
Growing up in Las Vegas, she’d been lucky when the patio was a cement slab in the backyard. She’d been lucky when there’d been a backyard. However at the Queen mansion, the “patio” included all five acres of structured gardens, paths, terraces and even a few greenhouses before the grounds transitioned into a vast, manicured lawn surrounded by the woods.

  
Marcus said Thea was by the pool but neglected to mention which pool. No one was outside on the terrace so Felicity headed the long way around toward the conservatory. She could have returned to the house and taken the short cut from the breakfast room and the connecting atrium, but Moira Queen rarely did things by accident so Felicity stuck to the outdoor path.

  
The conservatory was a pretty building, constructed in an era when form and function might bow to artful flourishes. This one came together at the center in a marvelous dome of glass and wrought iron. Fifty years ago, long after it had become unnecessary to grow your own citrus trees in order to have a year round supple, a large indoor pool was installed.

  
No expense had been spared but even after the plain, rectangular shape and straight walls had been updated with a set of tiered steps at the shallow end, the pool kept its dated utilitarian look. Still it was meticulously maintained. Everything in Moira Queen’s dominion was carefully looked after even if, like the conservatory pool, it was rarely used.

  
When she’d stayed at the mansion because of work or Thea, having the pool to herself had been a nice perk. Moira regularly swam in the morning but, except during the coldest months, preferred the outdoor pool and Thea had an aversion to indoor pools any time of the year. She claimed childhood trauma over how many times she’d been dropped off with her brother at the municipal pool while Moira had been meeting with one of her charity groups. Moira Queen had been involved in a lot of charity groups.

  
Thea might despise the smell of pool chemicals, but Felicity enjoyed the light, chlorine tang that mixed with the scent of loamy earth. Many of the original tropical plants had been left to flourish in the humid environment and their leaves formed a canopy that diffused the direct sunlight to create a richly green and exotic space. She heard voices before the curved path straightened to reveal Thea and Tommy reclining on a pair of lounge chairs on the other side of the pool.

  
In a concession to the temperature, Tommy’s navy blue, dinner jacket and matching tie rested next to him on another lounge and he’d rolled up his crisp white sleeves to his elbows. His dark brown hair looked nearly black in the dimmed light and had begun to curl slightly from the humidity. Thea’s chin length brown hair hung as straight and swingy as ever in complete defiance of the tropical environment and Thea herself looked cool and flawless wearing a silver, beaded, halter top that bared her middle, and a pair of long, dark, wide-legged pants. With her knees bent and legs crossed, one sandal encased foot bounced in the air.

  
Tommy noticed Felicity’s arrival first and beckoned her forward.

  
“Felicity! Come, join us in…what did we decide? Ah, yes, Bolivia!”

  
“Bolivia?”

  
“Tropical setting plus exile,” he quickly explained. “Don’t all the expatriates scuttle off to forgotten South American countries? Like all those Nazis back in the fifties.”

  
“If you don’t mind, I’d rather not be compared to Nazis.”

  
Thea punched Tommy on the arm. “Me neither.”

She gracefully rose from the lounge and greeted Felicity with a hug. “Don’t mind him. Bolivia was chosen only for its obscurity.” She looked Felicity up and down. “You look fancy tonight.”

  
“Says the girl wearing her new Jimmy Choos.” Earlier that day, Thea Instagrammed a shot of her “bargain” purchase while out shopping with her mother. Sparkling even brighter in person, tiny crystals encrusted every surface of the open front sandal, including the five inch stiletto heel and the seductive twists that looped twice around her ankle. “They are gorgeous,” Felicity told her. Hanging around Thea Queen made shoe envy the norm.

  
“They matched my top,” Thea said, dismissing the two grand strapped to her feet. “So, why the extra effort? You don’t break out the contact lenses for just any night.”

  
She barely stopped herself from reaching up to adjust her absent glasses. “I wear my contacts often enough.”

  
Thea turned back to Tommy, her hazel eyes twinkling mischievously. “Maybe Mom is setting her up with someone. At brunch, she dragged out the legend of Carter Bowen to properly shame me for my woeful lack of ambition.”

  
“God, that Harvard blowhard? Felicity, if you are going to lower your standards, why not have dinner with me instead?”

  
Thea answered for her. “There’s lowering her standards and abandoning them completely.”

  
“Ouch, Speedy, that hurts.”

  
“Don’t call me that!” She rounded on him, instantly furious, all teasing forgotten. Tommy cringed and held up his hands.  
“I’m sorry. It…it just slipped out. Old habits.”

  
Thea turned away. “Fine. Just. Just don’t forget again.”

  
It wasn’t the first time Tommy had slipped and called Thea by the childhood nickname Oliver saddled her with, nor was it the first time Thea told Tommy not to call her that, but it was the first time Felicity had seen Thea so intensely upset over his mistake. Felicity made a mental note to ask Thea later what that was all about. But in the meantime, she stepped into her role as mediator and brought the conversation back on topic.

  
“No one it being set up on a date.” At least she hoped not. “Anyway, why are we in Bolivia?”

  
“We told you,” Thea insisted. “Exile.”

  
“And why are we in exile?”

  
“Who knows? She never explains anything. Instead of the salon, Mom suddenly decides we are to have cocktails in the conservatory, so through the hoop I jump like any good show poodle.” Thea craned her neck around the corner toward the path. “God, when are they getting here with the margaritas?”

  
“Margaritas?” Felicity raised her eyebrows in question. Moira Queen wasn’t a salt rimmed, crushed ice, umbrella in the glass kind of woman.

  
Thea shrugged. “She only said cocktails. Margaritas are cocktails. If I’m stuck in Bolivia, it might as well be during spring break.”

  
Felicity took a sip of the white wine Marcus had handed her. Perhaps Moira had preemptively called off Girls Gone Wild and not just to avoid umbrella laden drinks. Thea and her mother had an ongoing difference of opinion on a number of choices Thea had been making since coming home. Thea insisted she was fine. Moira didn’t outright forbid anything but expressed her disapproval in other more subtle ways.

  
Covertly countermanded drink orders or today’s latest round of retail therapy wasn’t what Thea needed from her mother. If only they would actually talk to each other. Instead they carried on a kind of friendlier cold war involving brinkmanship and strategic moves all veiled under a mask of civility. Not being able to really talk to one another was one of the reasons both mother and daughter fixated on Oliver coming home.

  
His return wouldn’t fix the distance between Thea and Moira, but it gave them something they both agreed on. If Oliver came back, Moira would have her chance to repair the rift and Thea would get her big brother back. Hopefully, then Thea would also get the support system she needed.

Moira’s love for her daughter was simultaneously overindulgent and distant. When Tommy was around, he treated Thea every bit like his kid sister; people even mistook them for being siblings sometimes, but he had his own complicated life to deal with, especially since his father’s death.

Thea had been close to her step-father before Moira’s divorce from Walter—well, technically the other way around, but no one ever said it that way. They still saw him sometimes; Walter and Moira were nothing if not cordial, but Walter had faded from being a father figure in Thea’s life.

While she and Thea were friends, Felicity understood sometimes a friend wasn’t enough, especially one that worked for Thea’s mother. In the months leading up to the incident, as Moira liked to call it, Thea had focused more on the latter than the former. Thea’s other so called friends from high school and college weren’t worth considering. Felicity hoped they’d continue to ghost now that Thea was back home.

Thea needed someone she felt she could trust and long shot or not, she’d focused on Oliver despite his long absence from her life. Felicity glanced at her friend pacing next to the pool. Should she say something about her brother being in town? With the way he’d rushed out last night, would it be cruel to get her hopes up?

“So, how did you score libations before exile?” Tommy sidled up to her quietly and asked.

She blinked a few times to get Oliver Queen off her mind and then smiled. Weird vibes lately or not, she and Tommy Merlyn had always been on friendly terms. He was by nature more relaxed than any of the Queens. Often they’d been allies in defusing the tension between mother and daughter.

“Hmm, well, it could be I helped Marcus replace his Caltech bound niece’s laptop with one customized for an engineering student.” She’d kind of gone overboard, but she enjoyed putting together the hardware. She’d been building better and faster computers since she was seven. She shrugged. “Or maybe he’s still mad about the crate of Lafite Rothschild 1982 you stole for the scavenger hunt.”

“I didn’t steal. I merely obtained permission after the fact.”

“Not his though. Marcus is very particular about the collection he has acquired for the Queen family.”

Tommy snorted. “Didn’t stop you from snagging a couple bottles to take home.”

“Hey, I earned my cut.” The scavenger hunt had been one of Tommy’s more eccentric promotional stunts to bring in traffic to his club, but he’d hyped the fun and challenge until even Felicity was induced to join one of the teams that formed at Queen Consolidated. “You’ve done very well with the club. Even your disasters, you’ve made work. Like recently when your sprinkler system went off.”

“That was 1% inspiration, 90% desperation, and whatever’s percent is left over just dumb luck we had the suds makers and bubble machines already on hand. Had to replace some electronics but at least we didn’t have to shut down early.”

“It’s not like you to be so modest. You took a normal Friday night, mixed in a major malfunction, and morphed it into a three day rave. It was all over the news. I swear that Monday at Queen Consolidated half of anyone under 30 called in sick. And the half that showed up spent the day concocting hangover cures. They ran out of tomato juice in the cafeteria by mid-morning and put up a sign the rest of the day saying they did not sell raw eggs and to please stop asking.”

“Yeah, that was a fun weekend. But I never would have gotten the doors open in the first place if you hadn’t convinced Moira to loosen the purse strings.”

“Your numbers were viable. I simply presented them to her.”

“My numbers were 50/50 until you convinced her I could bring in the crowds.”

“Which, in the last eighteen months you’ve more than proved you can do.”

Tommy preened a little bit under her praise and then gave her another one of those speculative looks that she’d found disconcerting lately.

“So, what’s next for Verdant? A karaoke night could be fun,” she said in a rush to fill the silence. No one went to a club like Verdant for karaoke, but she wanted to move past the awkward moment before it morphed into something worse.

“Actually, that’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

She cocked her head to the side. “Really? ‘Cause I would have thought karaoke would get in the way of the dancing and the music, not to mention--”

“No, not that. There’s something else I was hoping to talk to you about.” He stuck his hands deep in his pockets and glanced nervously at Thea. Not that Thea was paying them any attention. Thankfully before he could expand on what he was thinking, someone cleared their throat behind them. The simple, black and white uniform identified her as one of the staff and though she’d come through from the house, she’d arrived without the drink cart Thea had been expecting.

“Mrs. Queen requests that you join her instead in the salon for cocktails,” the maid announced before inclining her head and leaving.

“The conservatory is beautiful, Thea. We should have cocktails in the conservatory, Thea,” Thea muttered loudly in a mocking voice as she stalked toward Tommy and Felicity. When she reached them, she slipped the wine glass from Felicity’s grasp and downed its remaining contents. At their blinking looks, she scowled.

“What? She’s my mother. God knows I’m going to need that more than you will. Now come on, before she moves cocktails to the center of the hedge maze.” She set the glass down on one of the tables, linked her elbow through Felicity’s, and started dragging her toward the house entrance.

Tommy went back to snatch up his jacket and tie. He paused in the act of putting them on and shouted after Thea. “Wait, you don’t have a hedge maze!”

Thea laughed and kept guiding Felicity out of the conservatory through the atrium and past the breakfast nook.

They nodded to the kitchen staff they passed on their way to the salon. The salon was one of those room names the wealthy used to try to differentiate living spaces in their oversized homes. In the Queen household, it was directly adjacent the formal dining room, but since she and Thea were coming from the kitchen, they walked through the dining room first. Felicity counted place settings on the elaborately set table.

One, two, three, four...five plates?

Digging in her heels, Felicity stopped Thea’s relentless flow toward the salon and its well-stocked drink cart. She steered her back around to look at the table.

“Thea, please tell me you were kidding about your mother setting me up with Carter Bowen.”

“Huh. I thought I was kidding,” Thea looked up and caught sight of Tommy as he caught up to them. She’d opened her mouth, presumably to ask him if he knew anything about the mystery guest when his eyes went wide and he staggered to a stop. He stared right past them.

“Oliver? Buddy, you came home!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will also be posting my regularly scheduled chapter on Saturday but this was just a little something as a reward for getting through the information slog that was the last chapter, lol.


	6. Chapter 6

Oliver flashed a grateful smile at one of the maids for her information, the kind of smile he’d once handed out to nightclub crowds like a Homecoming King raining candy at a parade. He strode toward the conservatory.

  
When dinner ended, rather than retire with the rest of them for coffee in the library as his mother suggested, Felicity excused herself for a moment. The moment stretched on until he realized she had no intention of rejoining them, so Oliver made his own excuses and went looking for her. With the daggers she’d been throwing his way all evening, he’d half expected to find she’d gone home without saying goodnight.

  
Last night, when he’d left Felicity’s place—no, not left, fled—he’d been close to physically ill. He still was anytime he thought too closely about his mother being behind the worst nightmare of his life. And as he’d driven mindlessly around Starling City and the Glades, years of crushing guilt over the part he’d played in destroying his family turned into simmering anger. Someone would pay and if his mother was as guilty as she seemed, so be it.

  
Exhaustion from the previous 24 hours had hit, so he’d found a motel on the outskirts of the city and crashed. In the morning, he knew he didn’t need the weekend to decide what he needed to do.

  
He’d stay in Starling City to get answers and take the job Felicity outlined, but he’d do it on his own terms. Oliver didn’t like reverting to the tricks of his former life and liked even less how easy it had been to slip on the persona to get what he wanted, but he couldn’t think of another way if he was committed to uncovering the truth.

  
He took his time, not arriving until evening at the Queen mansion, the home that had been in his father’s family for more than a century. It looked older. The pale sandstone construction took inspiration from English estates left over from medieval times; complete with the requisite Tudor wings and a high turret front and center that could have come from any child’s drawing of a castle.

  
The grounds around the mansion were extensive and, Oliver noted, still lavishly maintained. For an estate its age and size to exist solely for the use of two people was embarrassing. Even when there had been four of them, having every comfort and wish catered to now seemed an obscene way to live. But apart from losing a husband and dismissing a son, nothing had changed in Moira Queen’s world.

  
True, some of the furnishings inside had been updated. Hawkins had finally retired from taking care of the household and the rest of the staff looked at him like he was a either a movie star or the serial killer Felicity accused him of resembling, but otherwise everything was just as he remembered.

  
Especially his mother. Her shoulder-length, ash blonde hair remained elegantly coiffed and expertly tinted. And the simple, yet chic, black dress, could have been worn any Saturday night during his childhood. She’d always favored a timeless look.

  
He’d arrived unannounced, late enough he’d hoped that his mother would be rushing to get ready for whatever gala or charity event she had committed to that evening, but not so late that she wouldn’t have time to listen to his proposal. He’d miscalculated slightly and found it impossible to back out of an on-the-spot family dinner. That had been his mother’s only condition before welcoming him back into the bosom of the family, to attend company and family functions. His goal was to be seen as back in the inner circle, so he agreed.

  
For tonight’s family dinner, he’d been braced for Thea and hadn’t been very surprised about Tommy, but he hadn’t expected to see Felicity. The feeling had been mutual.

  
She’d mouthed “What are you doing here” while Tommy clapped him on the back and Thea squealed in delight, launching herself in for a hug. That had been hard, letting go and setting Thea back sooner than his heart ached to. He avoided her hazel eyes, set on keeping the reunion light. He’d perfected the art of careless charm before he’d been kicked out of his first prep school and continued to hone it as a business skill when he’d taken over running Green Archer Construction. His first and best teacher had been his mother.

  
Tonight when she greeted him in the entryway, she’d been welcoming but wary, floating in for an air kiss as if they were former chair members on a harbor clean-up committee. The classic scent of her Channel No. 5 lingered and stirred bittersweet memories he wasn’t ready to examine. He’d been blunt.

  
“I don’t want your money. I don’t want the company. I’m here because of the Memorial Initiative, nothing else.”

  
His mother’s control over her emotions never wavered.

  
“I see. Why don’t we go to my study where we can speak undisturbed?”

She turned without waiting for agreement and led him to his father’s old office. Once there, before he could protest, she quickly excused herself to handle a household matter. He fought back irritation at the minor power play, distracting himself by looking around. Very little in the room had changed either.

  
The focal point remained the massive, ornate, oak desk his great, great grandfather installed after building the mansion and while the pair of chairs in front of it had been reupholstered in a light cream color, most of the furniture, art and decorative items were familiar. His mother had left her stamp though.

  
There were more floral arrangements around the room than in the past. And the eponymous stained glass of Tiffany replaced the classic, green shade on the bankers light that previously had always sat on his father’s desk. Both were subtle but definitive reminders the study was no longer his father’s sanctuary. Oliver expected to be swamped by emotions, but instead he felt disconnected from his own past.

  
His eye was drawn to a cluster of framed photographs crowding a corner of the desk. He lifted one featuring himself: shaggy, sun-bleached hair; dark eyebrows angled a little too sharply; and despite being clean shaven, wearing the kind of smirk that said punch me. He saw it now. Serial killer-yacht salesman. He set it down and continued looking.

  
Several recent photographs of Thea joined ones from their past, including one of his sister and Felicity taken in the very office in which he stood. Thea was behind a seated Felicity with her arms looped around her neck and Felicity looking sweetly embarrassed. Given Thea’s hair style, which matched the one she had in her high school graduation portrait, it had to have been taken around the same time. Felicity had told him she was close with his family, but seeing her included with the other family photos on his mom’s desk threw him. Tommy was the only other non-relative to make the cut, and well, Tommy was Tommy.

  
“I presume we have our Ms. Smoak to thank for your return.”

  
He set the photograph down carefully, uncertain how long his mother had been standing there giving him that assessing look. “Presume? You didn’t know about Felicity’s visit? It’s not like you to be left out of the loop.”

  
“I gave her permission weeks ago to do whatever she saw fit, though quite truthfully, after your continued refusal to allow me to make things right, I had little expectations of her plans succeeding.”

  
“I guess it just took the right lure.” His mother’s gaze sharpened. He waited a beat and then added with a small smile. “I mean the Foundation’s project and the tribute to Dad, of course.”

  
“Of course,” Moira replied just as smoothly. “Felicity is a remarkably brilliant young woman. Kind-hearted as well. Perhaps, too kind-hearted.”

  
It was there, unspoken, but obvious in his mother’s tone and look. A quick, subtle warning that Felicity was not fair game. Interesting. Just as quickly, his mother moved on.

  
“It is perfectly like her to say nothing and thus shield Thea from possible disappointment.”

  
“And you, Mother? What could she be shielding you from? After all, it was your choice to send me away in the first place.”

  
His mother’s perfectly arched brows lifted.

  
“You walked away entirely on your own.”

  
“That’s not entirely how I remember it.” He placed a mocking emphasis on ‘entirely’.

  
“It was a challenging time,” she said as if that should be the end of it. “Really Oliver, I had hoped you being here meant you were ready to put the past behind us.”

  
He schooled his features, counted to ten and put on something closer to a smile. “For the sake of Dad’s legacy, I am willing to make peace. The Robert Queen Memorial Initiative and The Queen Foundation might operate independently from Queen Consolidated, but I feel it would be better if we were united…as a family.” He was proud to have said it without a grimace or gritting his teeth. His mother even looked grateful.

  
“There isn’t anything I want more.”

  
In the moment, with love gleaming in her moist eyes, she was the mother he remembered before his world fell apart. And for a heartbeat, he questioned what he was doing. Then she blinked and the ice queen returned.

  
“Along those lines, I have one condition.”

  
“I’m listening.”

  
He’d agreed to his mother’s condition and then made a few of his own. His mother raised a questioning eyebrow over one and made an actual objection to another before he reasoned away her complaint, if not her concern. Soon she graciously agreed just as he’d expected. They’d already moved to the keeping up appearances stage of their tentative relationship. He’d seen that stage before, had counted on it. More than a few times while growing up, it had been employed almost seamlessly between his parents during disputes to keep the family running.

  
It set the tone for the rest of the evening. Detached. Light. Pleasant. At least on the surface. Staying on the surface was how he’d survived the past 8 years and given what he was there to do, he decided it was best if he kept on living that way.

  
So when he pulled back too soon from his little sister’s hug, he ignored the flash of confused hurt in Thea’s eyes and ignored the glare Felicity sent him for causing it. Tommy seemed to be the same Tommy, ignoring the past and slipping back to old times like no time had passed. He definitely ended up being the friendliest face once they were seated at the table. As soon as his mom announced the conditions for his return, Thea limited her responses to a stilted yes or no at dinner. That was also when Felicity started glaring at him full time.

  
His mother was either oblivious to the tension or hadn’t cared as long as everyone kept up the minimal levels of civility. Dinner had been exhausting. It was harder to remain detached around people that mattered to him. He could hardly blame Felicity for disappearing. If he’d had the chance to get away earlier, he would have taken it.

  
As he stepped into the conservatory, the scent hit him and sent him back to his childhood, times when he and Tommy, and later sometimes Thea, played among the tropical trees and tall ferns, acting out scenes from The Jungle Book or Jumanji.

  
Not turning on the bright, overhead lights, Oliver used the faint, silver gleam from of the crescent moon and the small footlights to guide his steps until the path opened up to the pool. Felicity sat alone on a towel poolside, shoes off and feet dangling in the water. She was bathed in the blue glow of the underwater lights while deep shadows crouched around the edges of the concrete deck. Everything about the scene looked tranquil. Tension from the evening began to seep out of his muscles. Feeling warm, he shed his jacket, silently dropping it and his tie on one of the lounge chairs. By the time he reached her, he’d unbuttoned the top buttons on his shirt as well.

  
Felicity hadn’t appeared to hear his arrival, but neither did she startle when he stood next to her. Calmly, she glanced his way, letting her eyes climb to where he towered above her before returning her attention to the small ripples she stirred by moving her feet below the water. She didn’t look excited to see him, but she wasn’t glaring anymore so he took it as an invitation. It didn’t take him long to remove his shoes and socks and to roll up the legs of his trousers. He sat next to her at the pool’s edge.

  
The water was pleasantly warm, the kind of warm that brought thoughts about skinny dipping and questions of why he’d never tried it on his home turf when he’d lived there. There’d been a period where he’d taken a dislike to indoor pools. Bad timing, that.

  
“Penny for your thoughts.” Felicity broke the silence.

  
“Hmm?”

  
“You’re smiling. Dinner was one of the most uncomfortable experiences of my life. So I’m curious.” She kept her head cocked to the side, waiting for his answer.

  
He kept her waiting, caught up for a moment by the elegantly curved lines exposed with her hair swept up into one of those slightly messy, but probably carefully constructed hair dos. With her head tipped to the side, he had an up close view of that tender spot where skin and fine hairs converged at the nape of her neck. He’d been sneaking glances all dinner long even when she’d been glaring at him. Especially when she’d been glaring at him.

  
“Oliver.” She called his name again. He cleared his throat and replayed her question before he replied.

  
“I smiled during dinner.”

  
She snorted and looked away. “Please. Don’t try to pretend that was real.”

  
“Tommy smiled back. He must have thought it was real.”

  
“The two charmers trying to out charm each other? You don’t know Tommy the way you think you do. Not anymore.” Felicity shook her head and sighed.

  
An unpleasant but not unreasonable thought crossed his mind. He frowned. “How well do you know Tommy?”

  
“Uh-ah. We are not doing a Q & A session.”

  
“So…I take it you are still upset?”

  
She glanced at him with an incredulous look on her face.

  
“You went behind my back, made sure Thea would not be working directly with you for reasons I can’t comprehend, and worst of all, made it seem like it’s my fault. Oh, and let’s see, you got me fired!”

  
“You’re not out of a job; you’re just working for me now. Besides, you wanted to quit anyway.” The part of him that liked to play with fire couldn’t resist adding, “You’re welcome.”

  
An inferno raged in her eyes and she suddenly shoved at his chest, trying to send him into the pool. He easily absorbed the push and remained where he was.

  
“My god, up close you’re so much bigger and harder than I expected,” she complained.

  
He choked on his smile. “Thank you?”

  
She wagged a finger in his face. “Don’t! I’m furious with you. I don’t have time to be embarrassed by whatever strange thing my mouth spits out.”

  
He rubbed his hand over his mouth, hiding another smirk and then turned to her. “I apologize. It was ungentlemanly of me not to let you shove me into the pool.”

  
Her glare tuned to a groan and she dropped her head into her hands. “I tried to push you in the pool!” she wailed. But her guilt was short lived. Ten seconds later, she glanced up between her fingers at him. “Not that you didn’t deserve it.” She threw her hands up in the air. “What were you thinking?”

  
“That I didn’t want to get wet.”

  
She leveled another glare at him and he looked away. What could he tell her? She’d already dismissed his official excuse for his heavy handed actions. It was true though, her knowledge of the Foundation, the project and the people contributing to the initiative made her the perfect coordinator to let him hit the ground running. But she was also right. He could have gotten up to speed without forcing her to work directly for him. Still, in the midst of all the other uncertainties, he’d followed his instincts to keep her close.

  
“Now we have a reason for spending time together no one will question.”

  
“God forbid,” she began, the sarcasm dripping off her tone, “anyone think we might actually like one another.” She cringed. “I don’t mean like, like, I just mean…” He cut her off.

  
“Look,” he said softly, “maybe I was too hasty.” After all, her idea to pretend they were dating could have been interesting.

  
“Then you’ll reconsider working with Thea rather than making her report to me?”

  
He stayed silent.

  
“I don’t get it,” she said, all her anger drained. “Why are you trying to hurt her like this?”

  
He closed his eyes, pained by the idea. “I’m not.” His whisper sounded scratchy to his ears. “I don’t…I don’t want to hurt her. It’s just that... it’s better this way. You have to trust me on this.”

  
“You’re making a mistake.”

  
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he said.

  
***

  
Felicity frowned and studied Oliver out of the corner of her eye. His unfocused gaze on the water contained so much hurt and weariness she didn’t have the heart to harangue him further no matter how much he deserved it. “Don’t think I’m dropping this forever, but…” she paused and wet her lips, “are you ok?”

  
“I’m fine.”

  
And she was Beyoncé. She tried again.

  
“It’s ok, you know. You don’t have to be fine. Last night you didn’t seem fine. All of this, it has to be pretty huge for you.”

  
“I…I don’t want to talk about it. Besides, I thought you were planning on staying mad.”

  
She shrugged. “I expect it will come in waves.” That brought a small tug to the corner of his mouth, but he didn’t reply. Both of them fell silent for a while but silence wasn’t her natural state.

  
“I love this room. The conservatory.” She chuckled softly. “I love it even though every time someone says conservatory I want to announce it was Col. Mustard with the candlestick.” She tipped her head back to look up through the dome at the sliver of the moon glowing in the night’s sky.

  
“Two winters ago, there was an acquisition project that was all hands on deck. Nothing but deadlines and I ended up staying at the mansion to help for a few weeks. I would have gone insane if I hadn’t found this place. If I was frustrated or too keyed up to sleep, I’d exhaust myself doing laps. If I was already exhausted, I’d float on my back, count the stars and pretend I was in Hawaii or the Bahamas, maybe Bali.”

  
“Have you ever been?”

  
She shook her head. “But my mom worked at the Tropicana for two years. That must count."

  
“You lived in Las Vegas?”

  
“Until MIT. Then from Boston to Starling City. That’s it so far for me.” A comfortable silence stretched out for a minute and then Oliver spoke.

  
“Skinny dipping.”

  
“Excuse me?”

  
“The penny for my thoughts. That was what I was thinking about.”

  
“And this place brings back a lot of memories?” She was trying really hard not let her slice of paradise be swamped by visions of teenage sex-capades.

  
“Memories yes, of skinny dipping, no. As a kid, I played here, but by the time I was old enough to be interested, I wasn’t a fan of indoor pools.”

  
“I might have heard something about that. So if it’s a regret, why the smile?”

  
He kicked lightly in the water. “Laughing at the foolishness of youth? Though, I suppose as regrets go, it is one I could still cross off my list.”

  
“Ha, ha. Don’t go getting any ideas.”

  
“The way I remember it, sending me for a swim was already your plan.”

  
“Yes, sending you for a swim. The operative word being you. Because this dress,” she gestured to herself, “would not survive if you get it wet, and then neither would you.”

  
Oliver grinned and leaned in so their heads nearly touched. The tips of his fingers brushed against hers where it rested on the cement and the underwater pool lamps made his blue eyes mesmerizing. For a moment, she forgot to breathe.

  
“So I guess we’re agreed,” he said. “Skinny dipping is the only option.”

  
The low, rasp in his voice made her stomach do flips. Her awareness of the man next to her flared to uncomfortable heights while her heart pounded in her chest. She wasn’t sure what would have happened next if a loud, irritated voice hadn’t rung out of the darkness.

  
“Hello!”

  
Felicity sucked in her breath and jerked back, tottering to the point she might have fallen in the pool if Oliver hadn’t reached out and steadied her. She batted away his hand, twisting to find the source of the greeting. Thea emerged from near the atrium entrance, arms crossed and frowning.

  
“Before the clothes start coming off, Mom is waiting in the library to say goodnight.” The light was dim, but she looked as sullen as she sounded. She turned to go but paused to peer back over her shoulder. “Oh, and next time, before you two start to get busy, leave a tie on the door or something.”

  
Thea turned to leave for real this time and Felicity finally unfroze. Scooting back out of the water, she got to her feet, grabbed her shoes and padded after her friend, leaving wet footprints on the cement pavers.

  
“Thea, wait. It’s not like that!” She told her as she caught up.

  
Thea turned again, this time holding her hands up as she backed away. “You are two, consenting adults; what you do is your business. But you want my blessing, sure.” A haughty sneer twisted her expression. “God knows how long I’ve been telling you to get laid.”

  
“Thea!”

  
Oliver’s angry bark made her jump. Felicity hadn’t realized he’d come after them.

  
“Don’t talk to Felicity like that,” he growled. Thea swung around to confront him.

  
“Oh, now you want to play big brother?” There was both hurt and anger in her tone. “Don’t bother.”  
She turned to leave, but walked straight into Tommy.

  
“Whoa, easy now.” He steadied her by grabbing her upper arms, but she twisted out of his hold.

  
She glanced back at them again before giving Tommy her attention. She huffed, making a scornful sound. “Sorry Tommy, turns out you didn’t close the deal fast enough. Looks like you lost another one to your best bud Ollie.” Her parting shot left them all stunned long enough for Thea to get swallowed up in the darkness.

  
Cheeks burning hot enough to match her dress, Felicity pushed past Oliver and a scowling Tommy. “I need to go after her.”

  
As she hurried after Thea, she heard Oliver growl, “What the hell was that about?”

  
Followed by Tommy’s brittle laugh. “Consider it ancient history, man.”

  
She ignored both men and chased after Thea.


	7. Chapter 7

“Thea!” Felicity called and continued knocking rapidly on her bedroom door. Thea had left the conservatory and bounded up the back stairs like an antelope fleeing a predator, but Felicity was no cheetah even with her high heels clutched in her hand. Still, a door slam and a lock click confirmed she’d run her quarry to ground. Thea had been ignoring her ever since. Too bad lock picking had not been on Diggle’s lesson plans.

  
“Thea! I know you’re in there.” Silence. Felicity rested her forehead on the thick, paneled door. “Thea, please. It wasn’t the way things looked. None of this is.” Inside the room, she heard the garbled blare of a television being cranked. Felicity dug her fingernails into the palm of her hands but resisted the urge to hit something.

  
“Is everything alright, dear?”

  
Felicity jumped.

  
“Moira!” She said, her hand fluttering up to her chest. “You startled me.”

  
“So I see.” Moira’s serene gaze moved to Thea’s firmly shut door and back again. “Is something the matter?”

  
“What? No. Well, yes. It’s nothing. A small misunderstanding.”

  
“One it seems my daughter isn’t currently interested in clearing up.”

  
“No,” Felicity glanced concerned at Theas locked door, “she’s not.”

  
“Give her time. Tonight was difficult for Thea. I fear I allowed her to build up unrealistic expectations.” A small reflective smile appeared. “Allowed some of them for myself as well.”

  
Moira surprised her. At dinner, the Queen matriarch seemed wholly unaffected, nearly oblivious to the undercurrents around the table. Felicity felt a little foolish for not paying closer attention. She’d known how badly Moira wanted her son back in Starling City, but she’d been blindsided by Oliver’s conditions and the changes he’d wrought to her life.

  
Dinner barely had begun when Moira announced Felicity would now work for Oliver with Thea directly reporting to Felicity “as discussed”, whatever that was supposed to mean. Moira then calmly called for the table to move on from the appetizer to the soup course before Felicity could do much more than choke on her toast point. After that, she’d been preoccupied by her own emotions.

  
She read the strain on Moira now. A familiar sadness that often crept into her eyes when she spoke of past regrets. The hopeful longing she couldn’t quite keep hidden. How could this woman possibly be the monster circumstantial evidence painted her as? Felicity echoed Moira’s words back to her.

  
“Give him time.”

  
Moira smiled a little, though it too was strained around the edges. “Yes, well, advice is easier given than received. Make no mistake, I am grateful for this chance and I know I have you to thank for it.” She frowned, her eyes a million miles away. “I fear though, after all this time, my son’s true motives for returning remain uncertain.”

  
Felicity went very still. She chose her words carefully. “His return to Starling seems straightforward. His father’s legacy is very important to him.”

  
“And putting the initiative in Robert’s name was your suggestion.” Suddenly, Moira was very much present. An assessing eye studied her. “Perhaps, it is only I that is uncertain. You seem to know what my son is looking for. Or at least he seems to think so.”

  
“I didn’t ask to work on the Foundation’s project.”

  
Moira’s heavy gaze weighed her words for a moment longer and then lightened to the point where Felicity questioned if she’d been imagining her earlier judgement.

  
“Don’t concern yourself. It has been a stressful day, but a good day. What matters is my son is finally home. Now go. Thea will have a clearer head in a couple days.”

  
Hating to leave while Thea was upset, but knowing Moira was right, Felicity said goodnight and turned to leave.

  
“Oh, one more thing, dear,” Moira called after her. “I offered Oliver his old rooms at the mansion, but he said he’d made other arrangements. His other arrangements wouldn’t have to do with why Oliver’s clothes were rumpled when he came to say goodnight, why Thea is upset, or why you are currently barefoot with your already short skirt pulled up several inches shorter?”

  
Felicity blanched, mortified.

  
“What? No. God, no.” _Her already short skirt pulled up several inches shorter._ Would those words ever stop echoing through her head? Every cliché about dropping dead of humiliation or the earth kindly opening up and swallowing her whole flashed through her mind. “I have no idea where he’s planning to stay long term.”

  
“And short term?”

  
Again his mother’s implications were clear. Some perverse part of her refused to provide Moira further reassurance. She raised her chin. “You’ll have to ask him.”

  
They stared each other down in a brief contest of wills, but Moira knew when to pick her battles. She smiled pleasantly.  
“No matter. I’m sure he’ll let us know when he’s settled. Now I think I’ll follow my daughter’s example and retire. Goodnight, dear.”

  
“Goodnight.”

  
Shaken, all she wanted to do was go home and bury her mortification in a tub of something cold, creamy and sweet but after she tugged her skirt back into place, put on her shoes, and collected her clutch, she found she had one more gauntlet to face. Tommy waited by her car, hands dug into his pockets and nervous energy radiating off him. When he caught sight of her, she held up her hands in surrender.

  
“I can’t. Whatever you have to say is going to have to wait until tomorrow.”

  
“Sure, sure, that’s fine.” He glanced around hurriedly. “I’ll stop by your place in the afternoon. Around two, ok?”

  
She sighed. “If you’re just going to lecture me…”

  
“It’s not about Oliver. I swear. I wanted to talk to you before he ever showed up. You know that.”

  
And she had been trying to avoid that conversation. “Tommy, I’m not sure that—”

  
He interrupted her. “It won’t take long. Half hour, tops. That’s all I’ll need. And I’m really sorry about Thea going off like that and, um,” he jangled his keys nervously in his pocket, “and any other weirdness you might have heard. Please, just a half hour.” He pleaded with her, turning up his puppy dog eyes comically.

  
She smiled. It was hard to stay mad at Tommy. Maybe getting this conversation over was better than putting it off. “Fine. I’ll be around.”

  
He looked hugely relieved and got out while he was ahead. Immediately, he backed toward his black Jag, got in and started it. He rolled down the window as he started to roll down the driveway. He called out, “You’re the best. Don’t let anyone ever tell you anything different!”

  
“Goodnight, Tommy.” She called back, laughing.

  
“Night!”

  
His Jaguar had barely left the drive when awareness tingled through her.

  
“What did he want?”

  
She whirled around on Oliver, annoyed.

  
“Why is Tommy the only one in this house that doesn’t creep up scaring people half to death?”

  
“You don’t seem startled.”

  
She was hardly going to tell him she’d felt his presence before he spoke. That level of awareness would give him too many ideas. It gave her too many ideas. “You did yesterday.”

  
“That was yesterday. I’d like to think we know each other better now.”

  
“Not well enough to guess you were going to sneak behind my back and screw up my life. I don’t even really know why you ran out of my place last night.”

  
“Did I?”

  
“I don’t know how else to describe how you left.”

  
“No. Did I screw up your life?” His flippant manner was gone. He was asking the question seriously and she felt compelled to answer as such. Her complicated but orderly life was spinning into chaos, but he was only the most recent cause. She sighed.

  
“I don’t know yet.”

  
He nodded and then repeated his initial question. “What did Tommy want?”

  
Before she could decide how she was going to answer, one of staff drove up in Oliver’s truck. Both she and Tommy had been allowed to park out in front of the mansion. She was amused but not surprised that Oliver’s vehicle had been sequestered in the back. It was a newer model extended cab pick-up with a sleek black rubber liner in the bed, but new or not, it was obviously a work truck. Moira wouldn’t have liked that. Not the image she wanted to project.

  
Felicity glanced back at Oliver. He was still intently waiting on her answer. She has a feeling it might lead to a lot of questions. She was not in the mood for a lot of questions. So she decided to keep it simple.

  
She shrugged. “Tommy apologized for Thea. Look, it’s been a long night. I’m going home.”

  
“I’ll follow you."

  
She pulled her keys from her clutch and hit the unlock button on the fob. The lights of her Mini Cooper flashed. “That’s not necessary.”

  
“It’s no trouble.”

  
Too tired to argue, she let him do as he pleased. He didn’t crowd her on the drive across town, but his headlights never left her rearview mirror. Once at her townhome, she parked out front in her assigned spot and Oliver pulled into the neighboring slot belonging to one of the vacant units. He got out.

  
“I’m fine you, can go,” she told him.

  
“It’s no trouble,” he said again. Again, she let him have his way. As late and dark as it was—buying a replacement bulb for the motion activated flood light was on the top of her to do list—she didn’t mind the company. Not that she hadn’t made the short trip under similar circumstances hundreds of times on her own.

  
“You didn’t have to walk me to my door,” she said when she stepped up onto the landing. “It’s not like this was a date.” She wanted to kick herself the moment the words were out of her mouth. Had she sounded like she wished it had been a date? Oliver rolled with the idea.

  
“If it was, it would be our third.”

  
She flushed.

  
“Yesterday was not a date either,” she felt compelled to point out, “and even if by some huge stretch of imagination us having dinner together…”

  
“Twice.”

  
“…counted as a date, the first time we met wouldn’t be since there was no food involved.”

  
“Maybe no food, but I was hungry.”

  
Heat flashed through her body. Her eyes never left his as he took a small, but significant step closer. Her pulse raced. Her fingers dug into her clutch purse hard and she unconsciously wet her lips.

  
“Hungry. And curious,” he confessed.

  
“About?” She asked breathlessly. She stilled as he gently brushed a loose tendril of hair off the side of her face.

  
“You and I,” he said bluntly. “What we’d be like.”

  
Her breath stuttered. A vision of bare flesh and tangled limbs scorched her imagination. The real thing might burn her alive.

  
“You’re not really my type,” she got out. Technically true, though right now it was hard to imagine wanting anyone else. But among other reasons, Moira included, Thea was already upset with her for something she hadn’t done. Keeping it that way would be the smart choice. Normally, she was a very smart woman.

  
Oliver smiled and nodded. “Funny. You’re not really my type either.”

  
He said it matter of fact. The irrational pang she felt was mitigated by them being on the same page. It was definitely the better choice. But then, he leaned in and the fire leapt higher. She held her breath.

  
“I’m still curious,” he whispered a hair’s breadth from her lips.

  
“This is bad idea,” she whispered back, but didn’t back away.

  
“Is it?” He brushed his lips over hers, the barest of contact, fanning the sparks smoldering between them.  
Maybe this was one of those bad ideas that was actually a really good idea. She was tempted, so very tempted, but she couldn’t stop her mind from spinning ahead.

  
“Isn’t it?” She countered back, still sharing the same air.

  
“Hmm?”

  
“Isn’t it a bad idea?”

  
“Doesn’t feel like one.” He gently brushed his lips against hers again and both of them shivered.

  
What she wouldn’t give to sink into the feeling, but that voice at the back of her head wouldn’t let up. Something about his timing felt off. She placed her hand on his chest.

  
“Why now? Was it what Thea said? The thing about Tommy?” Oliver’s hand flexed on her waist, not forcing her to stay but not letting her go either. “Because if this is some kind of territorial marking competition or …something,” she finished lamely. It was hard to form articulate sentences with his heat spilling onto her.

  
“Not a competition.” His muscled arm wound around her waist, slowly pulling her even closer. Everything was happening in slow motion but with her mind and body racing.

  
“But you can see how it seems,” she persisted. “Thea makes a crack about you stealing me out from under Tommy and …”

  
“Shh,” he entreated. “I don’t want to talk about my sister. Or Tommy.”

  
“What do you want?” She asked only to quickly press her hand over his mouth. “And before you say anything, remember this is definitely NOT a third date,” she said meaningfully.

  
His lips twitched in a smile beneath her palm. Self-conscious, she yanked it back. When he was free to speak, he offered a compromise. “What don’t we start with a kiss?”

“Start?” She furrowed her eyebrows. “What do you call what we were already doing?”

  
“Getting even better acquainted?” He moved in for another tiny taste, ending with the tip of his tongue tracing the seam of her lips. “I’m asking for a kiss. Just a kiss, but a real kiss.” His lips drifted over her cheek and then to a vulnerable point just below her jaw line. His mouth pressed there, his teeth lightly scraping the tender skin. Humming in appreciation, her hands curled into the material of his suit and she couldn’t stop herself from tilting her neck, offering him more access.

  
“Only a kiss?” She wasn’t certain if she was confirming a promise or complaining about the limited parameters, but it was better if he didn’t know that.

  
“Only a kiss.” His stubbled cheek grazed against her sensitive skin and his warm breath puffed across the nape of her neck. Tingles chased down her spine. She resisted the urge to squirm against him. Everything about Oliver was hot and hard and wonderful.

  
“Ok,” she agreed and then tacked on for her own sanity, “but only if you’re not going to get all grumpy and weird when it stops at a kiss.”

  
“Fe-li-city,” He sighed through his teeth.

  
“Ok, shutting up now.” She wanted the kiss and was trusting Oliver to keep his word despite her higher functions handing over control; or maybe because of them going off line? Either way, she wasn’t certain when her arms had found their way around his neck. Or when he’d turned them slightly so her back was up against her front door with Oliver’s solid heat molded to her front.

  
And then he kissed her. A serious kiss. A seriously good kiss. She might have even mumbled ‘good’ against his nimble mouth, or was it God? Both were in harmony. And it was less of a mumble, more of a moan. And then what little brain power she had left was gone and the fire was licking through her veins. It was exquisite.

  
Heart pounding and breath coming in pants, she lost track of time and only when a car alarm went off somewhere down the block was she reminded of place. Their heads popped up, breaking the kiss. Still keeping her in his tight embrace, Oliver glanced sharply behind them. He relaxed slightly when he didn’t see anything, but nodded toward her door.

  
“Keys.”

  
She shivered. His voice was low and gravely with desire; it only took her a second to nod.

  
“In my bag.” She told him. It took another moment to locate her clutch on the ground by their feet and when Oliver bent to retrieve it, she sagged against the door, knees trembling and still catching her breath. He rose and reaching behind her, unlocked and pushed open her front door. Then his arms were back around her and his mouth back on hers, scorching her senses all over again. She melted into him.

Together, they moved backwards into her unit and she started fumbling to close the door, but Oliver was in the way. Abruptly, he broke off their kiss and stepped back. He was going the wrong direction.

  
He devoured her with his eyes but continued his reverse course, stepping down from her stoop to the walkway without a word.

  
“Oliver?” She leaned into the door frame, confused. He was leaving but it didn’t feel like a rejection. He paused when she called his name, closing his eyes and opening and closing his hands at his sides. After a moment, he mastered whatever he was battling and he raised his eyes to meets hers. His voice was still gravely.

  
“Only a kiss. Goodnight, Felicity.”

***

Felicity expected to be awake all night, instead, she’d had fallen asleep almost immediately once her head had hit the pillow. Morning, though, didn’t bring clarity. It was a tale of two Olivers. One snuck behind her back, rearranged her life, and set his sister against her while the other was sweetly protective, delivered a kiss she’d compare all future kisses to, and kept a promise she wasn’t even positive she’d wanted kept.

  
She wasn’t certain which Oliver she’d get next, but despite her continued ambivalence, she was feeling charitable and so she called Oliver to see if he wanted to meet for breakfast. Naturally, it went to voicemail. On the upside, he called right back. On the downside, she was in the shower and missed his call.

  
She was bemused by his message. He briskly thanked her for the offer but said he had a few things to take care of before Monday and suggested they meet at Queen’s Consolidated the next morning. He made no reference to his doorstep seduction and only a short comment about there being no point in trying to avoid Queen’s Consolidated while he was here. It was hard to buy his turn around after he’d been so adamant about wanting no part of it.

  
Still, he’d sounded cheery enough, though to her frame of mind, too cheery for someone that had cock blocked himself the night before. Not that she had planned to let much more happen than the knee weakening kiss they’d shared. Planned. That left a lot unsaid.

  
Maybe she’d misread his level of intensity. Maybe it hadn’t been as all-consuming for him as it had for her. And if so, she told herself that was fine. Avoiding getting in too deep was one of the reasons she should be glad they’d limited it to a kiss. This was all temporary for Oliver. Maybe she could prompt a genuine family reunion before this was over, but he had no intentions to stay long term and Starling City was her home. It was better this way. Less complicated. And she liked having her Sundays to herself. Tommy was arriving around two, but that left her the whole morning free.

  
She ran out for the good coffee—well, better than anything she could make at home—and splurged on an everything bagel with extra cream cheese. She vegged in front of the DVR catching up on a few shows sipping her coffee and eating her breakfast and then worked on a coding project for a smart home device Curtis proposed that she still wasn’t sold on. Their startup’s start-up was still frustratingly vague, but Oliver hadn’t been completely wrong. No longer being Moira’s assistant did bring her one step closer to her dream.

  
She played around with the idea until there was a loud knock on the door. She was surprised to see it was already a little past two, but not surprised she’d gotten lost in coding; creating and shaping new worlds was a heady power.  
As she opened the door for Tommy, she noticed a guy around Thea’s age in a red hoodie carrying a table up the sidewalk. Behind him a few others toted various household items and boxes.

  
“I see you are getting a new neighbor,” Tommy observed.

  
“Looks like.”

  
Now that she was out of the coding zone, she noticed all the bangs and footsteps from next door that should have been an obvious give away. One unit down, one to go. It was good for the safety of the whole complex when the place was full. She hoped the new people would be better than her last two neighbors.

  
The couple that had lived in the unit being moved into would complain about everything from garbage bin placement to the sound her water pipes made when she flushed her toilet. They’d glared at her for a month after she’d politely declined to stop flushing after ten pm. She’d been shocked when they’d been arrested for dealing meth but that had at least explained why such unpleasant people had been so popular. In contrast, old mister Stevenson from the other open unit had been a great neighbor right up until he died and then his most desirable traits—quiet, keeps to himself—backfired in a most horrifically smelling way.

  
“Come in. Do you want something to drink?”

  
“No, no. I’m good.”

  
She might have disputed that. Even though in jeans and a navy pullover he was dressed much more relaxed than last evening, Tommy looked more keyed up with his hands once again nervously jammed into his pants pockets.  
She led him into her living room. “Do you want to sit?” He shook his head.

  
“No, I’m good standing. You sit though. I’ll talk.”

  
She took him up on his suggestion. If they were skipping right past pleasantries, she might need to be seated for what he had to say. At least he was no longer sending out any romantic vibes. Could that have anything to do with Oliver’s return? Things between Tommy and Oliver had been tense when she chased after Thea. Had Oliver said something? She was glad to have Tommy back to acting normal, but the thought of two men deciding for her who she should choose was infuriating.

  
“So, I’ll get right to the point.” Tommy clasped his hands together. “I’m going to lose the club in a month if I don’t get your help.”

  
“What? How? I saw last quarter’s spreadsheets. Verdant is bringing in double the initial profit projection. Are you telling me you faked the reports?”

  
“No, nothing like that. The club is a money maker, but you know I’ve always had plans for something even bigger, better. I want to build an entertainment mecca around Verdant. Different clubs with different atmospheres, restaurants for before and after they hit the dance floor. Eventually, a concert venue. Maybe even adjacent to a multiplex movie theater.”

  
“It’s an ambitious plan. But you knew when you opened Verdant, it was going to take patience to build to that level.”

  
“We’re ready for the next stage. On the weekends, we’re turning twice as many people away than we’re letting in. But I was willing to be patient until I got wind of a group trying to buy the property I need to make the next stage work.”

  
“QC and Merlyn Global own most of the empty factories and warehouses near Verdant. I thought there was an understanding in place.”

  
“Merlyn Global controls the one in danger. Apparently majority stock owner doesn’t mean anything if I’m quote, ‘interfering with the current best interests of the company’. And the lawyers looking after my future shares while the merger is in the works decided the cash infusion from the sale of the property now is more important than anything I had planned in the future. Until I’m forty, I swear Dad’s trust means the janitor at Merlyn Global has more sway than I do.”

  
“Did you talk to Moira?” As overseer of the rest of Tommy’s trust, she had been able to free up the money he needed to open Verdant. If Merlyn Global wanted to sell the property, maybe it would make sense for him to buy it now. Tommy shook his head.

  
“When I got the money to buy the old iron works factory, I signed a stipulation not to petition for any advances for the next two years. Moira said with the merger coming up, the legalities of her overseeing my trust are tricky enough without contesting an agreement made only eighteen months ago. Besides, I’m getting the feeling she wasn’t as on board with any of my expansion plans as I thought.”

  
“Why do you say that?”

  
“Seeing as I didn’t have a choice, I asked about a personal loan, just to carry me until I could get it from the trust.”

  
Felicity nodded. It was the next thing she was going to suggest.

  
“She said no to the loan, but if I closed Verdant now, QC would buy the property back. That way I’d make a profit and she could use that ‘win’ as a qualifying reason to meet the stipulations of dad’s will and reinstate normal access to my trust.”

  
She didn’t have to ask if he’d refused. The club meant everything to Tommy. Access to his inheritance mattered to him, but not more than seeing his baby thrive. After his father died, Tommy tried to live in the corporate world. He gave it half a year out of his life but had been so miserable that even Moira hadn’t protested loudly when he quit. His father, though, had found a way to express his disappointment from beyond the grave. When Tommy quit working for Merlyn Global, the conditions of the trust left him his condo and car but otherwise cut him off. Verdant had emerged as a kind of loophole, a chance to prove his business acumen.

  
“So after you turned Moira down, what did you do?”

  
“I only found out about the impending sale when a guy named George Patel approached me. He was part of a group of investors that wanted to back my plan instead. I’d have preferred doing it without partners, but when that wasn’t possible, his proposal was the answer to my prayers.”

  
“I’m not seeing where I come into any of this.”

  
“I’m getting to that. The thing is, I put Verdant up as my collateral. A share of its profits now was all the proof of concept these guys needed to buy in.”

  
“Buy in. Are you saying you sold Verdant?”

  
“No. Kind of. But only temporarily. That plan was we put in a competing offer for the property owned by Merlyn Global, get it, and in six months I would get an advancement from my trust to pay off my share with the investors and then retain full ownership of Verdant again. The partnership would then just be on the expansion.”

  
“Is a deal like that common?”

  
“I wasn’t left with a lot of options. And it should have worked, only, there have been some complications. We’re still packed every week, but there have been some unexpected expenses. Like the electrical fire a few weeks ago. Or the Friday we couldn’t open because the front entrance got blocked by a pair of random dumpsters no one would move until morning. There were a few break ins too, one that made off with the weekend’s take and of course, when the sprinklers went off. Insurance will eventually cover some of it and no one thing was that big of a deal on its own but the costs all added up and that has made my investors nervous.”

  
“What does that mean?”

  
“The problems triggered a clause in the partnership deal. Bottom line, either I come up with my full share within four weeks or I lose majority stake in Verdant. I can’t let that happen. Tomorrow, I’m going down to California to meet with Patel. He was going to see if he could get the other investors to give me more time, but it’s looking grim.”

  
“How much do you owe?” She had some savings. She’d been paid extraordinarily well the last couple years and some of her investments had exceeded expectations. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest thing loaning friends money, but she knew how much he’d put his heart into his club.

  
“Only $500,000.”

  
“Only?” She exclaimed. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” She couldn’t come close to that and wouldn’t if she could.

  
“It’s a steal really. There’s six of us going in on the deal and despite the competing offer, the prices for warehouses in the Glades are still rock bottom.”

  
“Tommy, you have to know I don’t have anything near to that saved.”

  
“What? No. I’d never ask for your savings even if you did.”

  
There was special emphasis on “savings” that left her worried.

  
“Did you want me to try changing Moira’s mind about a loan?”

  
“I don’t think there’s anything you could say to change her mind. The same problems rattling my partners have made her lose confidence as well. But let me ask you something. You’re still planning on that start-up with Curtis Holt, your tech genius friend from QC, yes?”

  
She nodded, confused about the change in topic. “When it’s starting is a bit more confusing, but we’re committed to it happening.”

  
“Didn’t you say you already have some seed investors lined up”

  
“Tommy Merlyn, what exactly are you thinking?” She already had an inkling and she didn’t like it one bit.

  
“Hear me out. It’s a simple win-win for everyone. Approach your investors now. They want to give you their money before you’re ready for it anyway, so just loan it to me. It’s not uncommon for new businesses to have delays. They’ll never know. In six months, I should be able to pay you back, with interest and you can start your company then and you would have already made money. Consider it an investment in your future.”

  
“It’s fraud.”

  
“No. Not fraud. Not in spirit. You are starting your business and knowing you, your investors are going to get their money’s worth. No one is going to care if it takes a little longer to see results.”

  
“I care. We haven’t even picked out a name yet and you want me to risk ruining our reputation, not to mention jail!” She leapt to her feet and stalked away from him, not sure where she was going but just needing to get away.

  
“Wait, wait,” Tommy trailed after her, begging. “Felicity, I’m desperate. I told you, if I don’t come through with the money in four weeks, I’m going to lose everything.”

  
“I thought you said they’d only get a share of Verdant.”

  
“The controlling share. And they’ve made it clear I wouldn’t be kept on to run the place. And that’s IF they kept it open. Patel said some of the others got wind of Moira’s offer to buy back the place. They’ll shut me down and turn around and sell the other Glade property to the competition. Please, I can’t let that happen. I’ve never accomplished anything in my life like Verdant. Hell, I’ve never accomplished anything in my life. But I did that. I’m the reason it’s working. It’s the one thing in this world that proves I’m not the worthless disappointment my dad always said I was.”

  
“Tommy,” she said his name quietly, hating to hear the self-loathing in his voice, but he didn’t let her go on.

  
“God, it’s not even about proving anything to my dead father. He’s gone, all that would get me is money but if it meant keeping Verdant mine, I’d trade every cent left in my trust. I need this. Just this one thing that’s mine. Can you understand that? Please, Felicity you have to help me.”

  
“Ok.” She took a deep breath and nodded. “Maybe I know a way.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's note: It's not Saturday but you don't mind, do you?**

**Chapter 8**

“Can I help you find what you need?”

  
Oliver fought for his patience and smiled even though that made the fourth offer of assistance in the last six minutes from the overeager staff of Bed, Bath and Beyond.

  
“No, I think I have it under control.”

  
The worker went away and he went back to staring at sheets. It was a lie. He didn’t have this under control, but he’d believed it the first, second, and even third time he’d rejected help and now he was in too deep. He didn’t remember picking out sheets being this difficult in the past. Actually, he didn’t remember picking out sheets, period. Before he’d left Starling City, beds always came made. At the resort where he’d worked after he left, he’d had to learn to make his bed, but it had at least come with bedding. His first real apartment, sparse as it had been, also came furnished. After he’d moved to a nicer place, he’d probably had an assistant buy them.

  
He rubbed his hand against his face. When he’d walked up ten minutes ago, he’d thought, just pick a color and be done. Now he was sorting through fabric types, thread counts, types of weave, and even a wrinkle free option. Did he want that? It sounded like a good thing but felt like a trap. Kind of unnatural. Ok, for the new place he bought a king size bed, so start there. What the hell was a California King? Why did California have its own bed? Maybe he should have stayed put at the motel.

  
“Need some help?”

  
He scowled at the young man in the hooded red sweatshirt. He wasn’t sure if he was glad it was Roy Harper this time instead of one of the staffers. On the one hand, he was free to glare at Roy all he wanted, but on the other hand, as loath as he was to admit it, he needed help.

  
“I don’t suppose you know what the difference between all this crap actually is.”

  
Harper snorted looking at the set Oliver had pulled out to examine more closely. “I know you don’t want satin sheets unless you’re planning on opening up shop, Duce Bigalow.”

  
“What’s wrong with satin? They’re very smooth.” Not as smooth as Felicity’s fine skin, but he wasn’t sure even silk would match up.

  
“So smooth you’ll slide right off. And they don’t breathe. And like I said, any woman that sees them will think you get paid for sex or time traveled from the 1970’s – where you got paid for sex. You want cotton, trust me on this.”

  
Oliver put the sheets back.

  
“I can’t believe I’m trusting you on any of this. Did you get everything moved in?”

  
“Yep. Grabbed just the boxes marked bedroom from the storage unit and stacked them in the spare room for you to sort. Handed the key over to Garcia. He knows he has until the end of the month to empty it out, take what he wants and chuck the rest. Oh and back at your place, before I was done bringing in boxes, the furniture from the rental place arrived.”

  
“And the bed?” Even though renting a bed was essentially what he was doing at the motel, the idea of getting a mattress from a rental agency hadn’t appealed. When he’d ordered a new mattress, it seemed easier to buy the whole bed with it.

  
“All put together. Your turndown service awaits just as soon as you stop dicking around and pick out your sheets.”

  
Oliver tightly compressed his lips together. “To think, I could have left you to rot in Oregon.”

  
“Nah, you couldn’t be that cruel.”

  
He’d known Roy Harper for a few years now. For a long time, Roy was his only real connection back to Starling City. Not that he’d known Roy before he’d left. The kid was only a little older than his sister and their paths wouldn’t have crossed unless he’d been stealing his wallet, but like recognizes like. A few weeks after one of those TV news magazines rehashed Oliver’s story in a “Where Are They Now” retrospective, Roy showed up fresh from the Glades, desperate for a chance to leave the past behind and restart his life like Oliver had his.

  
Oliver literally found him on the doorstep of Green Archer Construction, curled up sleeping with everything he owned stuffed in a backpack. It had taken Roy more than two weeks on the road, hitch hiking and walking across two states, sleeping in the rough, and barely enough money to eat once a day

.  
Oliver hired Roy even though at the time his crew had been full. But when he’d heard even the abridged version of his story and saw the expectant rejection in Roy’s eyes, it reminded him of the chance he’d been given when he’d been lost. He’d known almost nothing about construction when he first began working for Green Archer Construction, but the man running the company at that time said he understood the courage it took to leave everything behind to make a new start and it deserved to be rewarded.

  
In hiring Harper, Oliver finally was able to pay forward the chance he’d been given, because in his heart, he knew it hadn’t been courage so much as ignorance that had propelled him blindly out into the world. But Roy had never been sheltered. He had known the risks and had taken them anyway. It was hard not to admire that.

  
Roy turned out to be a hard worker and a quick learner; it wasn’t long before he was earning his keep as more than just grunt labor. Of average height, but with a jaw and cheekbones that in another life could have landed Roy on the cover of an Abercrombie and Fitch catalogue, once he put on muscles from the job, the local girls flocked around him even if he mostly kept his distance. Once he’d settled in, a wry sense of humor showed up, making him a favorite with the crew as well.

  
When Oliver gave up the company, Roy continued to work on crew, but Oliver had known he could steal him away. Roy had thrived in his new environment in many ways, but he hadn’t put down roots. So after deciding to accept the job with the Queen Foundation, Oliver put in a call. Roy didn’t have the expert level experience that some on his old crew had, but he knew what he was doing and was a good judge of character. That he was also willing to play errand boy came as a bonus even if the familiar face also meant the familiar sarcasm.

  
“I haven’t been in the linen section that long,” he protested feebly before going back to staring at the sheets.

  
He’d hit the kitchen department first and picked out essentials which had been easier since unlike the bedroom, he spent the majority of his time in the kitchen actually awake. Green Archer Construction had been based out of a small town with only the local bar and a dinner as options; expanding his repertoire in the kitchen had been self-preservation. Oliver found he liked to cook as well.

  
There’d been a lot about his former life he’d liked, but like Roy, he never felt like he’d put down roots, not even when he’d bought the land to where he’d moved the headquarters. He took pride in how he’d built it up, but Green Archer Construction had been a means to an end. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have agreed to upend his life when the offer from Ray Palmer and Palmer Tech came in.

  
How that man became a mega mogul was a mystery to Oliver since any sane businessman would not have disclosed the hidden worth of the land before making an offer. But Ray Palmer was something he hadn’t run into before in the business world. Any world. He wasn’t sure if he actually liked the man—there was such a thing as too perfect—and he still wasn’t sure what Dwarf Star alloy did, but he’d been persuaded to sell.

  
Whether he’d wanted to admit it or not, he’d missed Starling City and letting go of what he’d built with Green Archer had been the first step in returning.

  
Renting the cabin in the woods had been an attempt to convince himself otherwise. He never bought into the hippy dippy enlightenment as a way of life sold at the meditation spa where he’d first landed on his feet after being forced to leave home, but his time at Nanda Parbat had brought him a kind of clarity which eventually led him to owning Green Archer Construction. He had found clarity in the cabin in the woods too, but only after she’d shown up on his doorstep.

  
“Ok. I talked to a sales person.”

  
Oliver blinked, not having noticed Roy leaving in the first place. He stood back and let Roy pick out in a couple colors a few sets of single thread, cotton percale sheets with a thread count greater than three hundred, minus the wrinkle free additives. And then they quickly moved on to pillows, blankets and a grey and black checked comforter. Before they were done, Roy had to get another shopping cart, but other than the checkout lady clucking about what a cute couple they made, they made it out of the store without further delay.

  
“Take this over to the new place.” He rolled the cart toward Roy’s red sedan through the busy parking lot.

  
“You coming over to help?”

  
“I still have some shopping to do.” And he was determined to finish it all today so he didn’t have to suffer though it again for a very long time. He could get away with his normal wardrobe once the actual work started, but like it or not, he was back in Starling City and that meant he needed more than one suit. His mother had been delighted to set up the appointment. Standing while being poked with pins was just what he needed after an endless day of paperwork, phone calls and shopping. At least the distraction kept him from obsessing over Felicity. Part of the time at least.

  
After he’d left Felicity, he’d gone back to the motel and even after he’d gotten off just imagining what the rest of the night could have been like following that kiss, he hadn’t been able to get her off his mind. With so much of his life in turmoil, his focus on her didn’t make sense but there was no denying she’d gotten under his skin. If he was being honest, she’d been there even before she’d shown up and handed him the video fob. He was back to find out the truth about his father’s death and make those responsible pay, but he was too self-aware to think his father’s video was the only reason he’d come back.

  
He was curious how Felicity would react when he told her he’d moved in next door. His overwhelming urge to skip the rest of his errands and go back to the town home to find out was one of the reasons why he wouldn’t let himself do so. He had more self-control than that even if Saturday’s kiss complicated things. It wasn’t like him to give into impulse. Not anymore. He’d become a careful planner even if from the outside his plans weren’t obvious. But with Felicity, he kept making choices based on his gut even though he hadn’t yet figured out what he wanted to do about this thing between them. What he should do was take a step back. Maybe stay on at the motel longer. The distance would be good.

  
“When you were moving me in, did you see anyone interesting, maybe the neighbors?” Oliver found himself asking. Apparently his self-control only went so far. Was he really begging for a Felicity sighting?

  
Roy slammed shut the trunk of his car.

  
“Man, I wasn’t sure it was all going to fit. Neighbors? Yeah, I saw some. But I don’t think you have to worry about anyone giving you trouble in that part of the Glades.”

  
He held onto his patience. “I wasn’t. I just was wondering about general impressions.”

  
“Of your neighbors? How long are you planning on living there?”

  
“Just tell me if you saw any of them.”

  
Roy gave him a weird look but answered.

  
“Um, yeah a few. There was an old lady in the end unit looking for her cat. And um, this cute blond with glasses in the unit next to yours. Though her boyfriend showed up so you might be out of luck there.”

  
“Boyfriend? You’re sure?”

  
“Not a hundred. He was at her place for a while and then when he left, I guess the hug and kiss on the cheek could have been for a friend but she was squeezing his hand, yah know? Like with meaning.”

  
“What the hell does that mean?”

  
“I don’t know, but I know what I saw.”

  
“What did he look like? Describe him.”

  
“I can do you better,” he said reaching in his front pocket for his phone. He scrolled to a video and hit play.

  
The video opened up focused on the broken bulbs above the landing his and Felicity’s townhome shared and then zoomed back so he could see the whole porch. Some of the pavers were cracked and loose.

  
“It’s for the home owners association. You said to get a picture of anything needing fixing. I did a video of all the outside stuff.”

  
“Shh.”

  
“You do know you’re acting like a stalker, right?”

  
Oliver ignored him, focused on the video. Felicity’s door opened and a tall, dark haired man backed out. He scowled, recognizing Tommy even before he turned to glance toward the camera. Then Felicity joined him in the frame. Hair in her everyday ponytail, light makeup, wearing faded jeans and an old MIT sweatshirt. Not exactly dressed for seduction, though Felicity was enticing no matter what she was wore. Some of his irritation faded when the hug and kiss were as platonic as Roy described but then there was the hand squeezing. He tightened his jaw. She reached for Tommy’s hands and then cupped them in hers and squeezed them…meaningfully. Crap. But what kind of meaning?

  
He scrubbed the video backward and this time watched her face. Her expression was intent but positive. Not too different than how she’d looked when she’d first been trying to convince him to come home. It bothered him more than he cared to examine to see her using the same look for Tommy. Next he studied Tommy’s face. Huge smile. Like she was the most wonderful girl in the world. He set his jaw.

  
Roy had been right. There was something there. But not boyfriend level there. She may have shared with Tommy the same look she’d given him when they first met, but that hadn’t been the look on her face while they’d been getting better acquainted and definitely not the slightly fuzzy, blissed out and confused expression she’d worn when he’d said good night after their kiss.

  
Still, something was going on. When Thea accused Tommy of harboring feelings for Felicity but being too late again, Tommy dismissed her remark. Actually, he’d said to consider it ancient history. At the time, Oliver thought Tommy meant Laurel and the crush he’d harbored that came to light after the Gambit went down, but now Oliver wondered if Tommy and Felicity could have had a past history. Tomorrow, he and Tommy were going to have a long talk.

  
“Hello. Earth to Oliver. Can I have my phone back? You want me to send the video to you?"

  
“What? Yeah. Send me a copy.” On a separate note, he dug out his wallet. “And when you’re done at the new place, here.” He handed Roy the key card for the motel. “Pack me up and transfer my stuff to the townhome. You can take over my room.”

  
“I thought you weren’t going to move in until tomorrow?”

  
“Slight change of plans.”

***

  
Monday morning Felicity was hopping from one foot to the other putting on her heels when her cell phone buzzed. A quick glance at the caller id announced it was Oliver.

  
“Hello?”

  
“Good morning. I was thinking we should ride into the office together. I’ll pick you up and after lunch, we can tour the first sites on schedule.”

  
“That’s not necessary. I can just leave my car in the parking ramp.”

  
“I’m also going to need your help getting past security this morning.”

  
“I can have that all smoothed out for you before you arrive. I was just walking out the door. I’m going in early to box up my old desk and make sure Priya is up to date.”

  
“That’s not a problem. I can pick you up right away.”

  
She was ready to protest again when her doorbell rang.

  
“Hold on, someone’s at my door.” She pulled open her door to find Oliver on her doorstep putting away his phone.

  
“Who’s Priya?” he asked.

  
“Your mom’s other executive assistant; she’s back from maternity leave today,” she automatically answered.

  
His eyes moved over her outfit appreciatively. She’d picked from her closet a fitted, grey, block print dress with a splash of bright orange that was especially flattering. And yes, the hem could be considered another one of “her already short skirts”, but after two years with no previous complaints, Felicity wasn’t about to draw more attention now by changing how she dressed. Besides, technically she didn’t work for Moira anymore.

  
“I’d wondered if you’d dressed up that first day just for me.”

  
“Sorry to disappoint. The day we met I was wearing close to what I wear every day to work.” When she began working more closely with the Queens, she’d gone through a kind of style renaissance. When they’d met, Thea had taken one look at her previous go to work uniform—pencil skirt, button down blouse, and practical flats— and announced they were going shopping. Allowing Thea to help pick out her wardrobe helped them bond.

  
Allow. Ha! As if she could have stopped her. Thea was a force of nature just like her mother and just as stubborn as her brother was proving to be. Felicity set aside thoughts of the sister and gave her attention back to the man standing in front of her.

  
Oliver was dressed for the office as well. She wasn’t an expert in men’s fashion, but the fit and fabric of his charcoal suit made it evident he hadn’t picked it up at the local Kohl’s even if she suspected he could make even a bargain basement suit look like couture. She blinked a few times when she realized she was staring. Fair was fair, he was staring as well.

  
“Is there a problem with how I dress?” She asked bluntly.

  
“No, not at all. Are you ready to go?”

  
He was intent on driving her for some reason and she was ready, so she nodded and ducked back in to grab her purse, locking the door and arming the alarm behind her. She glanced over at the neighboring door on the stoop. She’d heard her new neighbor get in late last night. Since Oliver was insisting on playing chauffeur, maybe she’d have him swing by Millie’s Bakery on the way home for a “Welcome to the Neighborhood!” muffin basket. Though a lot of people these days were going gluten free. Would a basket of gluten free muffins really say welcome? Maybe a plant instead.

  
“Did you want to stop for coffee on the way?” He asked as they walked down the sidewalk toward his truck.

  
An involuntary whimper escaped. Losing her job as Moira’s executive assistant she could handle, but losing her perfect espresso machine was going to take some time to get over.

  
“What’s wrong?”

  
She shook her head. “I’ll explain later. No need to stop. There’s good coffee at work.” For now. She was seriously contemplating if she could fit the machine in a cardboard box with her favorite stapler when she noted Oliver was once again parked in the spot reserved for the neighboring townhome.

  
“New neighbor moved in yesterday. You probably don’t want to park there in the future,” she warned him. “They can have you towed.”

  
“I don’t think that should be a problem.”

  
She shrugged. If it was, it was his problem. Her current problem involved getting into Oliver’s rather tall truck while wearing a somewhat tight, somewhat short skirt. She might have to rethink her wardrobe choices if Oliver drove her again. Or maybe she just got her excuse to drive by herself this morning.

  
“Can I give you a hand?”

  
He’d followed her around to the passenger side. She eyed the interior through the open door. “I’m not sure exactly what you could do to help.” Instead of answering, he grasped her by the hips and lifted her straight up off the ground like she weighed nothing and easily deposited her onto the seat. Oliver closed the door before she found her voice.

  
She quickly fanned her face while he walked around to the driver’s side. She knew other men with gorgeous muscles and none of them rendered her speechless. Why did this one affect her so much?

  
When Oliver got into the cab, easily sliding into the seat given his height, he thankfully didn’t comment on her flushed cheeks or sudden lack of conversation. For the later, maybe he thought she wasn’t a morning person. Which she really wasn’t, but there was always that first cup of coffee from home before she set out to the office for the good stuff that usually was enough to make her fit for human interaction.

  
The headquarters for Queen Consolidated wasn’t too far from her place and going in early meant they beat the traffic, so at least it was a short ride in silence. Since Oliver didn’t have any credentials yet, they parked out front in the visitor’s lot and entered the main lobby. She glanced at her companion as they came into the large, light filled space. Emotions flashed over his face, stealing his voice this time. She touched his sleeve, a gesture partly in comfort and partly to get his attention.

  
“You really don’t have to be here. Pick out a coffee shop and I’ll have someone express over the paperwork. I can arrange by myself to have the trailer set up on site.”

  
For a moment he didn’t say anything and then he slowly shook his head. “No. Thank you, but no. There are a lot of memories of my dad here. I was just…,” he trailed off shaking his head.

  
She didn’t make him finish, but nodded and then tugged him along. “Ok, if you are staying, come on, there’s a friend of mine you should meet.”


	9. Chapter 9

John Diggle, Queen Consolidated’s current head of security, was a mountain of a man. Oliver studied him. Keen brown eyes, tight whirls of closely cropped black hair, and smooth, richly brown skin. Probably an inch taller than Oliver’s own 6’1”. At least a decade older. And judging by the muscles not so hidden beneath his tailored suit, biceps bigger than his head. 

Oliver held out his hand after Felicity introduced them.

“Nice to meet you Mr. Diggle.”

“I usually go by Diggle.”

Diggle’s handshake was firm without being crushing. This was a confident man, secure in his position and abilities. 

“Then please, call me Oliver.” 

The man smiled but made no promises. Felicity jumped in. 

“John, Oliver needs to be outfitted for all security credentials. Can you start the process now or does HR need to have him first?”

“I can fit him with a Visitor’s Pass right away while we get the rest sorted.” 

He paused, noticing something across the hall. “Felicity, it looks like Curtis is trying to get your attention.”

Oliver followed his line of sight and saw a very tall, black man with glasses and a wild halo of springy hair ducking behind a potted palm that only made him stand out more as he attempted, and failed, to surreptitiously wave Felicity over. When he saw all of them turn to look at him, he stopped and pretended to examine one of the fronds. Felicity rolled her eyes.

“I’ll be right back”

“Who is Curtis?” Oliver asked when she’d stepped out of earshot. 

“Curtis Holt. Works up in Research and Development.” Diggle took out a digital camera and aimed it Oliver’s direction. “Smile for the camera…or not.”

He wasn’t completely paying attention when the flash went off, too busy watching Felicity across the mezzanine. She and this Curtis Holt were standing with their heads very close together looking furtively away. She was too far away for him to be sure, but he thought he saw her blush right before she grabbed Curtis’s gesticulating hands. 

Oliver frowned and, without looking away, asked, “What exactly is he to her?” Maybe Tommy wasn’t the one he needed to be worried about.

The sound of clattering keys stopped. “Huh. Now that’s interesting.”

“What?” Oliver turned to find Diggle watching him watch Felicity and Curtis. The large man looked him over with a speculative gleam.

“Just a twist I hadn’t expected.”

“You want to expand on that?”

“Not really.” He studied him for a moment longer and then crossed his arms in front of his massive chest. “Tell me Mr. Queen, why did you agree to come back?”

“I’m accepting the lead position on the Robert Queen Memorial Initiative.”

Diggle gave a short shake of his head. “I understand that’s the job. Why did you come back? Your mother has been trying for almost three years. Felicity tried to contact you for a month and you ignored every message. Last Thursday, she made a trip out to see you in person that from what she told me, did not go well. But three days later, here you are?” He gave him a puzzled smile that seemed to know more than he was letting on. Oliver adopted an equally genuine smile. 

”Felicity made a persuasive argument. I reconsidered.”

John Diggle nodded. “She can be persuasive. Usually right too. But not always. Guess time will tell if she is right about you.” He busied himself with the printer and then fed the color photo through a laminator. 

“So you’re keeping an open mind before deciding if I’m trouble.”

“Oh, no, I know you are trouble, but maybe you’re the kind of trouble she can use right about now.”

“What kind of trouble is that?”

“The kind I’m leaving to the two of you to figure out.”

“Do you always speak in riddles?”

He didn’t answer, just handed Oliver his newly made visitor’s badge. “That’s good for today. Once you fill out the Foundation’s paperwork, HR will contact me about anything else you need. For now, just fill out this form and you’re set.”

***

Felicity glanced back across the lobby and saw Dig direct Oliver to a small table where he handed him some paper work. For the Visitor’s pass they needed name, address, phone number and reason for being there. It wouldn’t keep Oliver occupied long but at least the body language wasn’t tense between the two men. Not terribly friendly either, but that might be asking too much at least until she explained to Oliver how Diggle was involved with the list.

“Felicity are you even listening to me?” Curtis asked. 

That would be a no. She’d started to tune out his chatter the third time he asked, “How could you not have told me Oliver Queen was back in town?”

“Of course I’m listening. You are my friend and if you need to say the exact same thing repeatedly in a shockingly high pitched voice while the actual man you are crushing on is just across the room waiting for me to return, then I am here for you.”

“Fine, point made. Just tell me, what does that mean for H&S Instruments? No, scratch that, H&S sounds too much like Gilbert and Sullivan’s HMS Pinafore. Very Modern Gentlemen isn’t the kind of modern we’re looking for. Smoak&Holt? Never mind, we’ll figure out a name. But does this mean we have a start date? Or at least an end date before the start date?”

“Technically, I am no longer working for Moira, BUT,” she interjected before Curtis could celebrate too loudly, “I’m assisting Oliver with the Foundation project for the foreseeable future.”

“Are you serious? How could you agree to a new commitment?”

“It wasn’t exactly my first choice but no, this will be good. While the Foundation job has an open ended commitment, Oliver has only officially agreed to stay on for two months. And hey, at least we’re no longer beholden to Moira dithering about my replacement. Which reminds me, I need to call staffing to have someone sent up to help Priya until Moira hires someone.”

“Ok then. Ok. This is good news. Yeah. One step closer and all that.”

“Exactly.”

“And speaking of closer, how can you string two thoughts together when standing up close to that kind of perfection wrapped in an Armani suit. Mmm, mmm, mmm.”

“Down boy or I’m telling Paul.”

“It’s ok. Queen is on my hall pass. Full license to leer.”

“Only to look?”

“Please, no one actually uses a hall pass. How weird would that be?”

She laughed. 

“So I am officially abdicating dibs,” he continued, “and give you my permission to go for it.”

She stopped laughing and exasperated, glared.

“Don’t give me that look. And don’t give me a line about him not being your type. Do you even know what your type is? I’ll tell you, it’s any man you stare at like that. Cause I’m not the only one leering.”

“Well, I have it on good authority I’m not _his_ type, so consider the matter settled.” If Oliver had any interest in…getting even further acquainted beyond the kiss, wouldn’t he have said something when he picked her up? Or was picking her up, him saying something?

“Oh really? Then why has the hunk of man meat been staring at you as much as you keep staring at him?”

“He’s not…” On instinct she looked and yes, Curtis was right, Oliver was watching her and even from all the way across the room, she could tell it was more than just a casual curiosity.

“Oh yes he is. He’s the one you should be telling ‘Down Boy’. Or not, if you are ever going to have any fun.”

“Curtis!”

“Fine, don’t listen to the person with the highest IQ in the company.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“Second highest, but still, this is good advice. Let yourself live a little.”

“Goodbye Curtis.”

“Ok, I’ll let you get back to that, but keep me updated,” he called out as she walked away. 

She ignored whatever Curtis said. It wasn’t hard to do when Oliver was staring at her every step of her way back to the security station. He wasn’t exactly leering, but she felt seen on every level. 

Not too many people knew her secrets; that was probably it. Even Queen didn’t know all of them. She hoped he didn’t know how badly she wanted a repeat of Saturday night’s kiss right then at barely half past 7 AM, but from the intense way he watched her cross the room, he might. 

Her desires being openly on display should have been mortifying and on one level it was, but when Lynn from HR intercepted Oliver before she did, only disappointment hit. Even if the interruption was probably for the best, it comforted her that Oliver looked as disgruntled as she felt before his irritation was quickly masked behind a very charming smile and handshake.

Neither she nor Oliver would be officially working for Queen Consolidated but the Queen Foundation wasn’t entirely a separate entity. The Foundation board met independently a few times a month with a few full time staffers occupying a small section of the fourth floor. To keep costs down, something simple like contracts and paperwork was farmed out to the more robustly staffed QC. 

Felicity was so busy observing Oliver speak with Lynn that she didn’t hear John come up behind her. She was going to have to keep working on minding her surroundings, but at least this time she didn’t jump out of her skin when he spoke.

“Felicity, you sure about this guy?”

“Who? Oliver?” As if there was any question. She played it casual anyway. “Sure. Oliver taking the job was always part of the plan.”

“So the rest of the plan, that’s still on? Does Oliver know about the list?”

She squirmed under his scrutiny. “Technically, yes.”

“Let me rephrase. Does Oliver know what you’ve been doing with the list?”

“Don’t you mean what we’ve done with the list?”

Dig held up his hands. “I’m head of security. I’m here to be consulted.”

“And your consultations have resulted in a half a dozen really crappy people ending up in jail.”

“It’s you ending up in jail, or worse, that I worry about.”

“You shouldn’t be. Nothing can be traced back to me.”

“You said Queen coming home was the key. And if him being back distracts you from revisiting your hacktivism days, I’m all for it, but what exactly do you plan for Queen?”

“I’ve told you, he can ask the questions I have no reasonable reason to ask. In two weeks, the Queen Foundation is throwing its gala fundraiser. Walter Steele will be back in town for it. I’m hoping he’ll feel he owes the son of his best friend the truth and with it, the complete list of names. And Walter doesn’t even top my wish list.”

“That would be Moira Queen, right?”

“You know I don’t believe Moira is behind this.”

“The time line fits.”

“It fits better with Malcolm.

“If you are so sure it ended with Merlin, why do you keep digging?”

She hadn’t told Diggle about the suspicious death of her former boss or the obligation she felt because of it. She also hadn’t shared Robert Queen’s video entreaty but now she wished she’d had before she’d assured Oliver no one else knew about the recordings. Diggle was the most honorable man she knew. He’d understand the kind of moral obligation Robert Queen laid on his son. 

“What happened changed everyone’s lives,” she finally settled on saying. “Knowing the truth is important.”

“Not more important than your life.” 

“I’m fine. Look, Oliver needs answers and after the way he was unjustly run out of town, he deserves them,” she insisted. Diggle frowned but didn’t argue with her which was as close to an agreement as she could expect. 

“When exactly did Queen get back?” Diggle asked, changing the subject.

“Friday night.”

“So, you two been spending a lot of time together?”

“Not that much time. He dropped by Friday night and I told him most of it. Then Saturday night, he popped up for family dinner at the mansion.”

“It’s his family. Not so surprising.”

“He’s not as eager to claim them as you might expect. Did I tell you he got me fired?”

“What?”

“Then made me his assistant on the project. Said he did it so we’d have a reason to be seen together.”

“I would have thought living next door would be all the excuse he’d need.”

Before she could ask what he was talking about, Diggle slid the visitors’ log page in front of her. She instantly recognized the address belonging to the unit next to hers. The one someone just moved into.

“That can’t be right. Why would he do that?” And when had he planned on telling her? She was more puzzled than annoyed. Ok, he let her go on about getting towed for parking in the wrong spot. And this was the second time he’d completely blindsided her about something she should know. So yeah, come to think about it, she was annoyed. 

Did Moira know?

If the Queen matriarch didn’t know yet, she soon would. Felicity didn’t want to even think about what she would be thinking. They were definitely stopping after work for a muffin basket, but Oliver would be the one giving it to her. 

“I suppose he might have moved in next door to help keep you safe,” Dig said. 

She blessed the man for not bringing up any other reason why a heterosexual male might have positioned himself close. John was too much like a brother for her to want him even thinking about her possible sex life. But she was accustomed to John worrying about her safety. She didn’t miss a beat and answered back. 

“I thought that was what the self-defense classes were for.”

“Back up never hurts but since we are apparently changing the subject,” he crossed his arms and leveled her with a look, “I want to see you at the gym for a refresher course.”

“I was busy before Oliver got here. I don’t have time.”

At that moment, Oliver joined the conversation.

“Time for what?” he asked. 

Diggle gave him an assessing once over and, coming to some kind of decision, gave him a more complete answer than Felicity would have liked. 

“When Felicity wouldn’t stop digging into your father’s death, I insisted she at least let me give her self-defense lessons.”

Oliver’s face immediately turned to stone. He turned to her.

“You told me no one else knew about my father’s video.” There was an accusing edge to Oliver’s voice. She rolled her eyes. 

“Diggle knew about Walter’s list and my investigation. You just told him about the video.”

“What video?” Diggle demanded.

Instead of answering, Oliver firmly clamped his hand above her elbow and pulled her aside. His grip didn’t hurt, but she doubted she could have shrugged him off. 

“You didn’t mention someone else knowing about any of this.” He kept his voice low and under different circumstances, she would have enjoyed the deep, gravely tones.

“There hasn’t exactly been time to fill in all the details.”

“Who else knows?”

“Just John. He was there back when I was still digging up answers under Walter’s orders. He helped me with something unrelated back then and we became friends. I trust him completely. After Walter took away the book, I still had a partial list of names. I should have scanned them all no matter what Walter asked, but I was distracted with the ones I’d already done. I went to Dig with some of the things I found out.”

“Things related to my father?”

“No, to the individual names on the list. I never shared with him the videos from your dad partly because they were personal, but mostly because the only new information was that your father knew he was in danger ahead of time.”

“What about you? Clearly Diggle thinks you’re at risk.”

“There’s no way it can get back to anyone that I’m looking into your father’s death, but…,”

“But what? What else are you doing?”

“Nothing that can be traced to me. I’m careful.”

“Felicity, what have you been doing?”

“I approached Diggle with what I’d found out because I needed to know who to send the evidence to.”

“Evidence of what?”

She shrugged. “A variety of crimes. Fraud, drugs, corruption, human trafficking. And once the FBI cracked down on the Triad, I got a line on the Bratva before they completely filled that vacuum.”

“Who?”

“Um, the Bratva. Organized crime with Russian ties.”

Oliver grasped her by the other arm as well. “The Russian mob? You’re messing with organized crime?”

“Discretely. And remotely. And keep your voice down.”

Oliver scowled and looked around. “We shouldn’t be talking here at all.”

“We’re fine. No one is close enough to hear, security is camera only and there is noise scrambling tech throughout the entire building, so no ease dropping devices.” 

Oliver looked impressed. “You were involved in more than just the cyber security.”

“I told you. I’m very careful.”

“My dad was trying to be careful and look where that got him.” He dropped his hold on her arms and scrubbed his hands over his face. “You need to drop your investigation of the people on the list.”

She frowned and folded her arms in front of her chest. “I’m not dropping anything.” A muscle along Oliver’s jaw twitched, but he changed tactics. 

“Fine. Then put it on hold. Just for now, don’t risk digging up something new. And anything you already have, sit on. For now,” he repeated. “You brought me back to ask questions and stir things up in very specific areas. I’ve seen it on the job site again and again. Mistakes happen when too much is going on. Now is not the time to make this any more complicated.”

Diggle approached them. “You two about ready to wrap this up? Lynn Masters from HR is still waiting for Mr. Queen.”

“Oliver wants me to put looking into the remaining names on hold while he’s here.” She wasn’t sure why she even bothered getting Diggle’s opinion. She knew what he was going to say. 

“I’d say he’s right. You said it yourself. You’re stretched thin. Why take the risk?”

“Ok. Fine. For now,” she stressed. “I didn’t have anything on deck anyway.”

“And I’m serious. I want you back in the gym to practice or the lessons become pointless.”

“I told you, I don’t have time…”

Oliver interrupted. “We’ll make time. I need to find a gym for myself too. Is yours any good?” 

“It’s solid. Nothing fancy.”

“It’s in serious need of a juice bar,” Felicity grumbled, but was ignored. 

“Stop by with Felicity tomorrow night,” Diggle instructed. “I’ll show you around.”

“Wait,” Felicity jumped in, “I thought your next self-defense class was a week from this Wednesday.”

“After all the sessions you’ve missed, lucky you gets one on one time.”

Felicity groaned.

Oliver held out his hand to Diggle to shake on it. “We’ll be there.”

“I can speak for myself.” 

Diggle patiently turned to her, and gave her a sardonic look as if he was not so secretly laughing at her. 

“Fine. I’ll be there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note:
> 
> I believe I will be switching to regularly posting twice a week. Every Saturday and then sometime mid week as well. 
> 
> Also, thanks for all the great feedback. I very much appreciate it.


	10. Chapter 10

Felicity headed to the executive floor while Oliver went with Lynn from Human Resources. She’d fill out her own paperwork later. As she exited the elevator, her beloved espresso machine called to her, but out of habit, she glanced toward the clear walled offices to see if Moira was in or not. It was at least an hour early for Mrs. Queen but someone was already in. At first Felicity assumed it was Priya, getting in early on her first day back, but Thea’s petite stature gave her away.

That was another disadvantage of glass walls. While you could see who was lying in wait, they could see you at the same time. Felicity braced herself as Thea came at her like a guided missile. 

“Felicity!” 

At least no one else was around to witness what was likely to be a scene. Felicity crossed her arms in front of her chest and waited. She’d taken Moira’s advice and hadn’t tried to contact Thea since Saturday night. Not texting or leaving a message to explain hadn’t been easy at first, but as Sunday wore on, she grew more convinced it was the right thing to do. She hadn’t done anything wrong—even including Saturday’s kiss. 

And besides, if Thea avoided her because she was mad, then maybe Thea wouldn’t realize how much Oliver was avoiding her. 

Thea strode down the hallway like she owned it. Which, yeah, she kind of did. 

“There you are! About time you got here,” she grumbled.

“Thea, I’m an hour early. If you are going to come to where I work…where I used to work, just to yell at me then I’m…umpf.”

Thea propelled herself forward into a hug.

“I was such a bitch. I’m so, so sorry.”

Surprised, but relieved, Felicity hugged her back.

“Can you forgive me? All the stuff with Ollie caught me off guard and I took everything way too personal and no matter how it sounded or looked I never should have jumped to conclusions. Can we talk?”

“Apology accepted. Yes, we should talk, but first, come on. I need my caffeine fix. You can tell me more about how sorry you are while I get what might be the last good coffee I don’t have to pay for.”

Thea halted and looked horrified. “Oh God, the Breville Barista BES870XL! You talked about it for a month after it arrived. But that’s not right. You love that machine! How are you holding up?”

“It’s minute by minute.”

“God, I really wasn’t thinking at all. I know you’d never stab me in the back, but if you had, you would have at least made sure the espresso machine left with you.”

“Damn right.” 

They caught up a little more over coffee with Thea insisting on taking her to lunch later in the day to cap off the apology tour. Felicity worried it would go back to being awkward when she told Thea she didn’t have her car since she’d ridden in with Oliver. It did get a bit awkward but not in the way she’d expected.

“Bitch or not for saying it how I did, you really do have my blessing if you want to use Oliver to end your dry spell. In fact, he might be the perfect choice. God, he was a man whore, but apart from Laurel when he ran off with Sara, none of the women he juggled ever seemed to mind. 

“Your brother and I…”

“Let me stop you right there. None of it is actually my business. From here out, you have my blessing but God, spare me the details? Ok? So I’ll pick you up for lunch at 12:30. Tell Oliver he’s welcome to come along.”

“I think he may already have plans,” she hastily mumbled.

“If so, I’ll pump you for information about what’s going on in his broken brain.” 

Priya arrived on the same elevator on which Thea left. Time flew by catching up with her about the baby and about Felicity’s sudden job change. Moira would make the ultimate decision about who replaced her, but in the meantime, she called HR and had Jerry, one of the EA’s that acted as a floater, sent up. Moira swept on to the executive floor precisely as business hours for Queen Consolidated officially began. 

Moira properly fussed over pictures of Priya’s 3 month old and then, before she took Priya and Jerry into her office to go over her schedule for the week, she asked to speak to Felicity privately. Not knowing what Moira might know, Felicity braced for the worst and was relieved when Moira merely offered up use of the smallest conference room for her and Oliver’s work for the Foundation.

“I know how tight space is on the fourth floor. Here you’ll have room to spread out and there’s limited traffic on the floor. Fewer interruptions.”

Right, with his mother watching his every move through the glass walls. She doubted Oliver would go for it. 

“We’ll be onsite once constructing begins, but I’ll make sure Oliver knows about the offer. Was there anything else?” Like had anyone reported back to Moira yet about Oliver’s new residence? Did Moira know and was just waiting to be told? Part of her wished the inevitable confrontation done and over,

“No, that will be all for now.”

And a much bigger part of her was happy she wasn’t having that conversation just yet. Actually, why should she have to have that conversation at all? When the time came, she would make sure Oliver took that bullet. 

Rather than Oliver come up to her, she met him down on the fourth floor. Moira had been right about the lack of space. The office given to them barely fit a desk. Still, his mother’s offer was met with mild horror. 

“We’ll make do.”

It was a tight fit crowding two chairs around one desk, both on the same side so they could both see the computer screen. Oliver was not a small man and it was impossible not to notice the heat that came off his body or the pleasant scent of his cologne. It was something masculine with hints of citrus and just all around delicious. In the tiny space, it should have been overpowering, but Felicity found herself taking in deep lungfuls. Discretely. She hoped.

All morning long, Oliver behaved like a complete professional, which she appreciated, but it was unnerving having the kiss they’d shared on Saturday hanging over them. He gave no indication he even remembered it happening. And then there was the fact he’d moved in next door without telling her. 

She’d meant to confront him right away after Diggle told her, but the two of them ganging up on her pushed the topic from her mind. She decided to save that fun conversation for later and instead dived into the daunting amount of work they had to get through before the first families could begin their remodel. The project was further behind than she imagined. Oliver had been overly optimistic about checking out worksites that afternoon. 

They immersed themselves in the plans. There were many details to sign off on and so many more to decide. Besides reviewing suppliers, they had to vet the proposed foreman, the crews, and make notes about where Oliver thought they needed more hiring. 

As the morning wore on, Felicity became more impressed watching Oliver work. She’d read the reports brought back to Moira from her private investigators; they’d implied when not on the job site, Oliver had been more of a figure head for Green Archer Construction than a traditional CEO. And compared to his mother, he wasn’t as organized or mindful of the big picture, but Felicity appreciated his attention to detail and practical knowledge of what needed to happen to move the Initiative forward. She was feeling far more confident they’d meet their deadlines by the time lunch rolled around. 

Oliver tossed his pencil down, pushing the blueprints back. “I’m starving. What do you think about breaking for lunch?”

“I normally take lunch at 12:30.”

“Close enough. Any suggestions?”

“There’s the cafeteria, not exciting, but their sandwiches are good. Oh, so is their soup. A number of places will deliver. If you are thinking about going out, you might steer clear of 6th Street; your mom has a favorite place there. But I can get you a table just about anywhere.”

“Whatever you want to do, I’m fine with.”

“Well today, I’m having lunch with Thea. She said you’re welcome to join us if you want.” It was pretty clear he’d expected they’d go to lunch together. For making assumptions without even talking to her, she almost enjoyed the ensuing awkward pause while he digested the change in his plans. 

“I…uh… don’t think that would be a good idea,” Oliver said, frowning. He added a few bad excuses why he couldn’t go but from the way he kept avoiding her eye, they both knew they were excuses. She only wished she understood why he was making them in the first place. 

“Do you want me to place an order for you before I go?” 

“No,” he said in a clipped tone. “I’m capable of taking care of my own lunch.”

She wasn’t precisely sure why, but he seemed irritated she’d offered. In fact, after she told him she was having lunch with Thea, he’d seemed irritated that she was going to lunch at all. Well, tough. She hadn’t asked for this job. She took pride in her work, whatever that was, and she would work hard to make the project a success, but Oliver was one “boss” she wasn’t going to worry about impressing.

Thea was waiting for her out front of Queen Consolidated. Moira nearly always used a driver and frequently Thea used the town car as well, especially for shopping or errands, but today it was the snazzy, little, two seat, BMW convertible. 

“I see my brother didn’t join us.” 

“What would you have done if he had?”

“Made him drive. I’ve never ridden in a pick-up before.” 

Oliver’s absence suddenly seemed glaring and Felicity found herself offering up one of Oliver’s excuses.

“We were deep into the proposals. Oliver wanted to keep going over them.”

Thea put the car into gear and zipped out into traffic.

“You don’t have to cover for him.”

“I’m just telling you what he told me,” Felicity said, but Thea went on as if she hadn’t spoken.

“First, he was all surface charm and distant before dinner on Saturday. Like I haven’t seen Mom do that dance a thousand times at fundraisers? And then that stupid thing with the foundation so I don’t even work with him? God, he really is trying to avoid me, isn’t he? Do you think he found out about Spring Break? Did you tell him?”

“No, but I didn’t plan on hiding it. He’s your brother Thea; he should know.”

“I don’t want him to look at me and see it as this problem.”

“It is a problem. This was the second time.”

“Both were isolated incidents. It’s not like I was an addict. I just got really unlucky a couple times.”

“I’d say you got really lucky.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do, but hiding past problems from your family isn’t going to help you make better choices in the future. Oliver should know.” 

“Okay. Just promise me you’ll let me tell him myself.”

“Fine.”

“That’s assuming he stops avoiding me long enough to let me tell him. I just wish I knew why he was doing this.”

Felicity had been working that question nonstop since she left for lunch. He clearly was avoiding Thea, but it didn’t feel like he was happy about his choice. More like he felt he had to avoid Thea. Maybe it was because he was set on proving Moira guilty of his dad’s murder. Even when he failed, Thea probably would be furious he’d even consider her a suspect. Or could he be so used to being without family that he didn’t want family anymore? Maybe he’d simply forgotten how to be a big brother. She had one or two other thoughts, but she shied away from them even in her own mind. She fell back on the same platitude she and Moira had exchanged two days ago. 

“Give him time.”

“Time. Gah. Do I even have time? Has he said how long he’s going to stick around?”

“Not exactly, but he’s not going to vanish overnight. The first phase of the initiative will take a couple months. I’m sure you have at least that.”

“Two months is not enough.”

No. It wasn’t, Felicity silently agreed with a worried pang for herself. She tried to change the subject. “So, where are we going for lunch?”

“Slight change of plans. Tommy had to run out of town on some last minute business thing. He called and asked me to drop by Verdant to sign for his cocktail napkins since I guess the guy that normally does it is also off. But have no fear, while we wait, La Fete is delivering.”

“I didn’t know the bistro delivered, let alone to the industrial section of the Glades. No pizza place will.”

Thea shrugged. “The maitre’d likes me. And the area isn’t that bad, Verdant is safe enough.”

“Because Tommy has security people walking the parking lot during club hours to keep it that way,” she reminded her, but Thea had already returned to their previous topic. 

“Mom says I should keep my expectations low. Actually she said not to get my hopes up. That’s worse, right?” She wasn’t looking for an answer. “She said Oliver might have his own reasons for being back, maybe even some kind of payback for us not supporting him more when all those awful stories first hit the press. God, Felicity, it was relentless. Mom tried to keep me sheltered but the kids at school repeated every sordid theory from their parents. I knew Ollie would never hurt Dad or anyone, but did I tell him that?” Thea shook her head. 

“No, I spent the last month he lived at home avoiding even talking to him. And then one day, he was just gone and God, I was even relieved at first. I could pretend everything was normal, that Dad was off on a business trip and Ollie back at college. But he never came home. First Thanksgiving, then Christmas. And Mom wouldn’t even say his name back then. It was like Oliver died with Dad but worse, because I couldn’t even morn him. And I went along with it for years. I failed him.”

“Thea, you were just a kid. Whatever is going on with your brother, I don’t think he blames you.” God, at least she hoped not. It was what she didn’t want to even contemplate, but it would explain why Oliver might keep her at arm’s length. But Thea _had_ been just a kid. You’d have to be a pretty awful human being to hold a grudge against a child.

“I was a kid, but he was my brother. I knew better. I should have been there for him. If he is back for revenge, I can’t really blame him.”

Was looking for the truth, the same thing as seeking revenge? The message on his father’s video could be interpreted as a request for revenge. For the first time, Felicity questioned if she’d made a mistake dragging Oliver back home. What if Moira was right? What if it wasn’t the truth he was after but payback? He was already fixated on Moira being the villain. She’d assumed they’d dig deeper and find proof of the real mastermind but what if he’d already made his mind up? 

Honestly, Moira could take care of herself, but what about the company? Rumors could send the stock into the ground. If it was destabilized, thousands of families could have their lives ruined. And then there was Thea. What if, as crazy as it sounded, what if he _was_ set to make Thea pay as well? She wasn’t a kid any longer. Maybe…no. She just couldn’t see the man she’d begun to know as that kind of cold, self-centered monster. Plus, if Oliver really wanted revenge, letting Thea get close to him and then turning on her would be a much better way to hurt her than avoiding her from the start. Moira, Thea AND Oliver were all being their typical dramatic selves. She shook her head. 

“Oliver came back to honor your father’s legacy, not hurt his family.” 

“I really hope you’re right.” Thea suddenly shook herself. “Ok, enough about Oliver. Lunch isn’t about him. This is my apology to you.”

It was just like a Queen to get you all twisted up inside and then for them to shrug off their grim speculation like it was nothing. Still, Felicity did her best to shake it off as well.

“I already accepted your apology, but if we are talking La Fete’s, please tell me you ordered their chocolate eclairs.” 

Thea laughed. “Why else would I call them?” 


	11. Chapter 11

Five minutes later, Thea pulled into Verdant’s front lot. As typical of a Monday, there were still a few cars scattered about, left no doubt from the weekend, waiting to be claimed by their owners. Felicity got a nervous pang in her stomach; empty clubs in the harsh light of day always looked desolate. 

Or maybe she was just hungry. 

Thea swung around back to the rear entrance off the alley. She parked in front of the back door next to the loading dock and excitedly produced a new set of keys.

“Tommy doesn’t know it yet, but he’s never getting his spares back.”

“You still have to know the alarm code to get inside.”

“I have the code, too. I can come and go anytime I want.”

“He could just change the code.”

“Details!” Thea said and dismissed logic. 

Because of the neighborhood, they closed up the top on Thea’s blue Beemer before they got out and headed to the grey, back door. She used her key and once inside, immediately went to punch the code on the alarm pad. 

“Huh. That’s funny.”

“What is it?”

“Tommy said punch in the code, hit enter, and the light would go from flashing to steady. But it’s not flashing or asking for the code.”

“Let me look.” 

Thea stepped back. Given the location of Verdant, Felicity had taken upon herself to make sure Tommy’s club had the best security system for the money he’d had available, so she was very familiar with how it was supposed to work. She still thought he should have gone for the pricier option, but the one he had was usually very reliable. She studied the key pad. Thea was right, no light or code prompt. But for a good reason. 

“The alarm’s already off.” 

Thea crossed her arms, annoyed. 

“I swore to him I had the code memorized. He must have assumed I’d flake.”

Felicity supposed it was barely possible Tommy had not activated the alarm, but that nervous feeling returned.

“Or maybe his day guy showed up after all,” Thea suggested more optimistically.

“No,” she shook her head. “His car would be here.”

“Maybe he parked out front?”

“That far away from the door? In this neighborhood?” 

“Maybe he wanted to rack up steps on his Fitbit?” 

Felicity had met Tommy’s day guy. He seemed more the type to park in a handicap spot and fake a limp than wear a pedometer, but what did she know? If she got in 10 sit ups, it was a banner workout. She was not looking forward to the personal torture Diggle was devising just for her. 

She flipped on all the light switches on the long strip by the back door even though only the loading dock and back corridor really needed the extra light during the day. The main club area of the converted warehouse had windows high up by the ceiling. Felicity followed Thea onto the club floor. She walked past the long L shaped bar and glanced up at the second level. 

“Hello! Anybody here? Hello!” No slightly sketchy, day manager called back to them. 

The club was large but open. Aside from Tommy’s office on the second floor which he always kept locked and the few bathrooms, everything was in plain sight. Even the storage room was really just a back hallway off the loading dock that dead ended in a sealed door to the permanently flooded basement. 

“I guess you were right, nobody is here,” Thea said.

Felicity shook her head. She couldn’t believe Tommy would leave the alarm off on purpose. Not with how precarious things were with his club right now. Though maybe he forgot to turn it on? He’d been stressed.

“I’m going to check in with Tommy.”

She pulled her phone out but had yet to hit send when they heard a thump and then a crash, like glass breaking. They both looked at each other, suddenly on the alert. The noise came from the back hall. There was no way someone wouldn’t have heard Thea call out. Felicity clutched Thea’s arm. 

“We should leave,” Felicity whispered. “Now.” Eyes huge, Thea nodded rapidly and they both made a dash toward the back exit. The intruder had the same idea.

The sound of pounding footsteps was the only warning before a dark figure without a face painfully slammed into Felicity’s side, knocking her into Thea and sending them both sprawling on the slightly sticky, cement floor. Pain jolted through her knees from the hard landing, joining the throbbing ache in her shoulder and hip. For a moment, she was dazed. Sunlight briefly brightened the hallway, forcing her to squint until the metal door slammed shut. Thea groaned behind her. Felicity scrambled to her side. 

“Thea, are you ok?” She asked while she scanned their surroundings. She didn’t see or hear anyone else coming, but she wasn’t willing to assume anything. The contents of Thea’s purse lay scattered on the floor so she grabbed her car keys and phone. Her own phone had been flung from her hand. She spotted it by the door but the screen was black and splintered into shards. The intruder must have stomped on it in his hurry to get out. 

“We should still get out of here; we can call the police from your car.”

“I think I twisted my ankle.”

“Come on, I’ll help you get up.”

It took more than one try getting Thea up. The heel of her shoe was broken and her ankle was already showing signs of swelling but neither of them wanted to stay inside where an accomplice could be hiding. They hobbled out to the car and Felicity eased Thea in the passenger side since there was no way she’d be able to drive. On her way to the driver’s side, she saw the tires.

“Frack.”

“What’s wrong?” Thea asked.

“Your tires. They’re slashed.” 

# ***

Felicity got into Thea’s BMW, locked the doors and tried not to think about what would happen if the masked man returned. Her hands were shaky when she dialed 911. They were in the Glades so it took twenty minutes before the first squad car rolled up. By the time the EMT’s arrived, the officers declared Verdant empty. Thea’s ankle was already worse. The EMT wasn’t sure it was a break but there was some kind of ligament damage and wanted her to go back to the hospital for x-rays. Thea protested at the fuss. Mostly at the fuss her mom was going to make. She finally agreed to go once Felicity gave her back her phone with the promise to let Thea handle her mother at her own discretion. 

Her own injuries were handled with a couple cold packs, some ibuprofen, and a warning about stiffness the next day. The police took her statement, but since neither she nor Thea could provide much of a description, they shrugged and said it was the Glades as if that was the end of it. It was only as they were on their way out that Felicity realized she didn’t have a way back to the office. They agreed to wait while she went inside to use the club’s phone and make arrangements. She tried both Diggle and Curtis without luck before she dialed Oliver’s number. To her relief, he picked up on the first ring.

“Tommy?” Oliver asked.

She was confused for a moment before figuring out Verdant’s caller id must have popped up. Oliver continued to speak on the open line. 

“Have you heard from Felicity? Is she with you?”

Oliver sounded agitated. A glance at the clock made that not unreasonable. It hadn’t seemed the police did much once they arrived, but time had flown by. It was after three o’clock. Lunch hour had come and gone a long time ago. 

“This is Felicity.” 

She didn’t get much past mentioning the break in and needing a ride when he said he was on his way. She went back outside to wait for him plus the wrecker she’d called earlier for Thea’s car when it occurred to her she should lock Verdant up. When the alarm still wouldn’t respond, she went back inside to contact the alarm company. By the time she was through and back outside, both Oliver and the flatbed tow truck were pulling into the lot. She waved at the police unit that stayed behind; they flashed their lights and left.

While she gave the service guy from the BMW dealership Thea’s keys and waited for a receipt, Oliver parked his truck and walked inside the club. Just as the blue convertible was being winched into place, he came out frowning.

“Where’s Thea? I didn’t see her inside.”

“She went with the paramedics back to the hospital for x-rays. Nothing too major. Thanks for coming by the way. You can’t get a cab out here unless the club is open.” 

“I would have known to come earlier if you’d answer your phone.”

“It got smashed. Did you try calling Thea’s phone?” She asked sweetly. She was sure he hadn’t. 

“I don’t have her number.” 

“Oh, you don’t remember seeing in on the list we were looking at this morning with all the other people that will be working on the Initiative?”

“Must have missed that.”

She was ready to press him on his continued excuses when real worry flashed over his features. 

“Are you sure Thea’s not badly hurt?”

“She’s going to be fine,” she reassured him. “She strained her ankle. The x-rays will rule out a break. We tried to leave when we realized someone else was inside, but he literally ran into us on his way out.”

“He?” Oliver echoed, focusing on this new bit of information. 

“He, a very robust she, possibly a they. I didn’t get a chance to check pronouns. Whoever it was wore a ski mask and was on foot. This is the Glades, so the police figure we interrupted a vandal or someone looking to swipe a couple bottles. Any cash on hand is locked up in a safe no average burglar could open. Tommy is going to have to go through inventory but apart from a few boxes moved around and some broken bottles, nothing seems disturbed.”

“How about you? Are you ok?”

“I’m fine.” Fine but tired, achy and starving. Along with the lookie loos, the police had turned away the delivery guy with their lunch.

“I should get you home then.”

She sighed. “I can’t go yet. Not until the alarm company gets here. The alarm won’t arm.”

“Let Tommy handle it. It’s his damn club.”

“He can’t. He’s out of town.” Her stomach growled. She decided to head back inside Verdant. Bars usually had olives. Maybe if she was really lucky there might be some fruit waiting to become garnish. 

“How long until the security company gets here?” Oliver impatiently asked, following her inside.

“They weren’t sure. Soon I’m sure.” 

“Doesn’t Tommy have an actual employee that could do this? Why the hell were you here in the first place? Thea was supposed to be taking you to lunch.”

“She was. Then Tommy asked for a favor because his actual employee didn’t show up or took a day off, I’m not sure. Which, darn it, I bet the police turned away the napkin guy too.”

“The napkin guy?”

“It’s a night club. Verdant goes through a ton of cocktail napkins. It’s an important delivery.” She went back behind the bar and crouched down to check the shelves. Pearl onions, maraschino cherries, green olives. She considered the olives again, but kept looking. She really only liked them in martinis. She straightened up and walked over to the bar sink.

“Couldn’t have been that important or Tommy would have stayed in town,” Oliver commented from behind her.

She sent him a frown. 

“It was a last minute meeting.” Tommy had explained he had one last Hail Mary he wanted to try before they resorted to plan B. He went to make his pitch in person to some loan officer that owed him. “So he asked Thea to be there for the napkins.” Felicity spotted a cutting board near the sink. That was a good sign. There had to be fresh fruit around here. An orange would taste great. Hell, she’d settle for a few stalks of celery. 

“He asked Thea. Not you?” Oliver asked.

“Yeah, so?” No oranges or celery in sight but there were two whole pineapples, spiky leaves and all. She eyed the large, prickly fruit and decided to pass. Fresh pineapple was fantastic but last time she’d cut into one, she’d made a huge sticky mess from all the juice. Plus, that was a lot of pineapple. 

“So Tommy called her, today, _after_ you made lunch plans.” He clarified.

“Yes, Tommy called her after we made lunch plans.” She stopped searching the shelves and turned to face Oliver directly. “Why are you being so weird about Tommy calling Thea? He knows I work. Thea’s helped out with deliveries at the club before.”

“So you already knew he was going to be out of town.”

“Yes, I knew, but what does that have to do with…oh my god!” Her mind leapt to make the connection. “You know Tommy was at my house yesterday. You were spying on me!” His eyes widened.

“What? Me? No. I…,”

“Not you directly, your spying spies.” He backed away as she strode out from behind the bar. “On Sunday, all those movers moving your secretive ass in next door.” 

He winced.

“Yes, I know about you moving in next door. Did you think you could fill out that much paper work and it not get back to me?”

“I wasn’t spying on you.”

“What would you call having people reporting back about who visits my home? Unless you were there hiding and watching from the bushes? Do you know how creepy that is?”

“I was not doing anything in the bushes.”

“So ergo, spies.”

“I didn’t hire spies.” He sounded indignant but had the grace to flush.

“And that’s not even getting into how weird it is for you to move in next door...”

“I thought it would be convenient.”

“…without even consulting me…”

“It was a spur of the moment decision.”

“Were you going to tell me or did you plan on sneaking around, hiding in the bushes and spying on me the whole time?”

“I was not…” Oliver paused, closed his eyes, and collected himself. “I was going to tell you.”

“When?”

“At the right time.”

“The right time?” The acoustics in the club were fantastic and her sarcastic tone reverberated all around them. “You needed time, like maybe when you showed up on my doorstep this morning? Or drove me to the office? Or when we spent the rest of the time working together in the same tiny office?”

“I was going to tell you at lunch. But you made plans with Thea.” He lifted his hands quickly. “And I’m not saying that’s an excuse.”

“Ok, then what are you saying?” She crossed her arms. She was ready to call a cab and pay whatever ridiculous amount she’d need to bribe them to make a trip to the Glades.

“How about I start with I’m sorry. I…” he looked away and shook his head, “I never meant for it to be a secret. I called about the town home Saturday morning. With what we are looking into, I thought…I thought maybe you’d feel safer.”

“I’ve been looking after myself for a long time now. I need a partner, not someone to save me.”

“Ok. Maybe I wasn’t thinking about you when I took the townhouse. Maybe I was thinking I would feel better. Everything you told me…” He shook his head. “I shouldn’t let you near any of this.”

“Why do I have to keep reminding you I’m the one that brought you into this? No one is letting me do this. It’s my choice.”

“And the moment I agreed to come back, I stirred things up. Everything is more risky now.”

“That’s part of the plan. The best way to keep us both safe is if you stop hiding important things that I need to know. First my job, then my home.”

Oliver rubbed his hands over his face. “You’re right. I know you’re right. It’s been awhile since I’ve had a partner.” He shook his head. “Roy wasn’t spying.” At her puzzled frown, he explained. “One of the movers, someone I brought in from my old crew. Roy took a video of repairs that needed to be made outside, like the loose flagstones on the steps and the broken lights. I watched the recording he made and it showed Tommy leaving.”

“Okay.” She was willing to accept his explanation even if there was something about the careful way he chose his words that made her suspicious. “But that still doesn’t explain why you kept moving in all hush hush. Do you have any idea what your mother is going to think? What your sister already thinks?” 

Oliver grimaced, probably uncomfortable with either his mother or his sister thinking about his supposed sex life. Good. Small payback for her first-hand mortification. 

“And speaking of Thea, what are you doing there? You can’t keep avoiding her.”

“I told you,” he ground out, “it’s for the best.”

“For whom?” she asked, throwing her hands up in the air. She was getting upset all over again. 

“Thea.”

“That’s bullshit. She’s miserable about this. Do you resent that she got to keep her life? Is that it? Are you jealous over all you lost?

“No!” He looked appalled at the suggestion. “That’s not it at all.” 

She believed him, but that made his choice even more foolish.

“Then what are you are doing?”

“Exactly what my father said in his message to Thea.”

“Your father never said anything about shutting your sister out of your life.”

“He said,” Oliver paused and took a moment to collect himself. When he started again, he spoke in a calm, even voice. “He said I was going to need her more than she needs me. Thea deserves more than what I can bring to her life. She’s done fine without me. I’ll…I’ll only mess her life up.”

Felicity wanted to strangle and hug him at the same time. 

“I think you’re wrong. And for the record, Thea is not fine. And if she’s gotten this far without you, it’s because she’s had no other choice. I see that you care. Would you at least let her see it as well? Maybe you don’t believe it, but Thea needs you.”

Emotions played over Oliver’s face but he was firm as he shook his head. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Based on what? You haven’t been here. And keeping track of Thea in what your mother allowed to be published in the papers isn’t going to tell you the whole story. Thea is at a turning point in her life and she’s struggling. She has been for years.”

“What are you talking about?”

She wanted to tell him, but she’d promised Thea that right.

“Please, just talk to her. Let her in. Both of you lost your dad, but she lost her big brother too and part of her still doesn’t understand why. Look, as far as I know, my father isn’t dead, but I know what it is like to not have answers. He walked out of my life when I was a child and sometimes I think it would have been easier if he had died. Because at least then, a part of me wouldn’t have been wondering my entire life why I wasn’t good enough for him to stay.”

Pained, Oliver closed his eyes.

“I never meant for Thea to feel that. It’s not about her.”

“And my father leaving wasn’t about me. Doesn’t change how it feels. Would you at least think about what I said?”

Oliver nodded and then stopped to gather his thoughts again. “About moving in next door,” he began, awkwardly returning to the earlier topic. She got the impression he wasn’t used to explaining his actions very often. 

“I wasn’t expecting to see you Saturday and when I did, I’d already upset you with the job change; I thought holding off telling you about the townhome a little longer wouldn’t matter and then when…” he trailed off. His eyes heated and the atmosphere between them changed. 

The kiss. He did remember the kiss. 

Felicity swallowed and nodded. “Ok, I can see how that might have complicated things in that moment.” And in the next moment and every moment after. Wasn’t her life complicated enough? She’d already made one promise to keep life simple. Maybe she needed to make another. She blew out her breath slowly. “There’s a solution. You promise to stop hiding things and we’ll uncomplicate…things.”

Oliver frowned. She went on.

“You moving back to Starling City after all this time, dealing with your family, the new job, this…attraction between us, not to mention everything I’ve told you about your father’s death. It’s too much.”

“It is?”

“Obviously or there wouldn’t be the lying. Or am I wrong to think under normal circumstances I can trust you?”

“You can trust me.”

“And I want you to trust me. Need you to, so what happened Saturday, the um …kiss.”

“I remember.” His voice dropped an octave.

“We’ll just pretend it never happened.” She warmed to her idea. “Maybe even take a week or two to concentrate on the Foundation project before we do anything else big with the investigation. You were right before. Trying to do too much will lead to mistakes and we can’t afford any. The Queen Foundation Benefit Gala kicking off the initiative is coming up in less than two weeks. It’s going to take all our effort to meet the deadlines to start the housing rehab project on time.”

She furrowed her forehead, “That’s not just a cover, you know. Finding out the truth and the Memorial Initiative are both important. I truly believe you are the right man for both jobs, but if you don’t think you can give the Initiative your full commitment…”

“I can. Both are important to me as well.” He furrowed his brow and then made a decision. “Maybe you are right. Maybe we need to take time to settle in before we make waves with the investigation. A lot is going on and we do need to work together. So ok, we set aside this thing between us…for now. But only, for now.” His eyes dropped to her mouth. “Because no, I’m not going to pretend the kiss never happened.”

She readily nodded, too flustered to point out how well he’d been ignoring it up until now. A knock sounded at the back door and she perked up, extremely pleased at the interruption. It was most likely the alarm company. She turned to go let them in, but Oliver caught her hand before she could go far. 

“Oh and Felicity, just to be clear, when I said I won’t pretend the kiss never happened, what I really meant was I’m not going to pretend that it’s never going to happen again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so it was two chapters mid week this time. See ya on Saturday!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of an odd, rambling chapter. Hopefully, it will still be entertaining.

**Chapter 12**

“So,” Felicity asked as she arched her back and stretched her arms above her head, “how did the poster child for idle rich kids end up in the construction business?” The desk chairs that came with the on-site trailer weren’t terribly ergonomic but otherwise they’d settled nicely into the portable office. Not that they’d had much time in the last four days to sit still in their new work space. And the week prior to that had been even busier, scrambling to get everything in place before construction kicked off. 

They’d lost half a day with the break in at Verdant. Oliver had waited with her while the alarm company’s rep repaired the system which ate up the rest of the normal work day. She’d suggested working late, but he nixed that idea and since she’d already been feeling her bumps and bruises, she hadn’t fought him. She had expected he’d drop her at home where she’d scrounge her freezer hoping for a forgotten frozen meal to pair with a yogurt. Instead, all it took was a particularly loud stomach growl for him to insist they stop for dinner. He made it seem terribly reasonable. They both had to eat, didn’t they?

He brought her to a little place downtown, nothing fancy, and promised her the best burger of her life. He kept his promise. She could not remember anything so heavenly in her mouth and for a while, she forgot all about their new arrangement. Then he had to help her into the cab of his pick-up again. She was lighted headed before she ever left the ground. 

They’d decided to take a break from that kind of romantic tension for a good reason. Felicity realized if she was to expect Oliver to follow the new rules, she needed to get her head straight too, but it had proved harder than she’d expected. 

Since she’d already started having regrets right away, she hadn’t been entirely certain Oliver would play nice once they reached the doorstep of the townhomes. With Oliver living right next door, there was no avoiding walking up the path together and that doorstep now held powerful memories.

Knee-weakening memories.

Vow breaking memories.

Really good reasons to say screw it and go in for another one of those incredible kisses. But if Oliver had been having a hard time with their new arrangement, he hid it well. He’d been a perfect gentleman, waiting until she got her door unlocked before bidding her goodnight.

She spent too much time that night convincing herself it really was for the best.

That next morning, her knees had stiffened up so she hobbled from bed like a ninety-year old woman, groaning as each step jarred the bruises splattering the side of her body. Verdant’s intruder should have been a linebacker. On the bright side, she had a valid excuse to cancel her self-defense refresher with Diggle. Only a solid half hour under the hot shower and a couple ibuprofens got her out the door. She decided Thea, who ended up with a sprained ankle and her foot in a walking boot for a couple weeks, got the better deal. 

Felicity drove herself to work, but by noon, even with another round of pain killers, she was noticeably miserable. Oliver tried to send her home, but they’d had mounds of supplier and contract details to go over and they were already behind. His solution was to take the files with them and work from the comfort of her couch. That she agreed was proof of how battered she’d felt. 

She’d brought work home in the past but usually it was a solitary thing. Of course, she and Curtis were collaborating on their future company, but that had been more of a back and forth idea exchange with each working independently on their own parts of the project. The male ego could be delicate in the corporate world—any world really—and she’d never excelled at pandering, so when Oliver arrived with the files, she’d been wary of the tension she was inviting into her living room. 

Not having to pander had been one of the perks working for Moira Queen. She was an exacting employer, but she applauded the intelligence of others rather than feeling threatened which was a quality Felicity happily discovered Moira passed down to her son. Oliver was, technically, her boss, but he was happy to defer to her decisions on anything outside of his expertise. It worked the other way too. Her construction experience was limited to partially assembling a computer table from Ikea so she was equally happy to rely on his judgement. 

Instead of returning to the cramped, 4th floor office in the Queen Consolidated building, they worked from home the rest of the week. Besides the freedom and extra space, it gave Felicity her excuse to avoid Moira until after Oliver came clean to his mother about where he was living. She remained uncertain how that conversation went. 

At the end of the week, they’d gone into QC to meet with the Foundation’s board and Moira had been nothing but air kisses and friendly greetings. Which either meant she remained in Moira’s good graces or was now her sworn enemy. Moira Queen would kill at poker. Fortunately, Felicity was a Vegas girl and she was pretty sure she managed to play it cool for once.

Thea was being inscrutable as well. The boot she had to wear for a week or so didn’t slow her down and she took advantage of them working from home to drop by unannounced, quick visits where she breezed in and out before Oliver could avoid her. Felicity wasn’t sure what her game plan was with that yet.

“It’s a long story.” Oliver finally replied to her question about his start in construction. 

“I like long stories. I read all fourteen Wheel of Time books. That includes the ones finished after the author died and the prequel.” 

Oliver nodded like he was taking her answer under consideration and then stood and stretched, working the kinks out of his neck and shoulders. He was dressed for the job in his well-washed jeans, scuffed work-boots, and a dark Henley. She’d seen everything he was wearing sold in trendy boutiques but she was certain the distressed touches on his clothing came about naturally. 

Last Friday, she’d taken Oliver to her gym or rather he’d driven her to their gym. Just because she’d canceled her one on one session with Diggle on Tuesday, Oliver hadn’t seen any reason not to go. When she showed up for her rescheduled lesson—specially tailored to teach her the _right_ way to fall which meant by the end, her bruises had bruises—she found not only had Oliver already joined Wildcat’s Gym and gone multiple times, but he and Diggle had bonded over free weights versus machines. What was wrong with the machines, she wanted to know. Both men only rolled their eyes. 

While she enjoyed the results, Felicity found Oliver’s dedication to working out a little curious. Some days he went before and after work, slipping in a daily run as well. He wasn’t exactly a health nut even if her undisciplined food choices tended to make him cringe. For Diggle, who she knew trained every day, it was part of his job and a discipline left over from his time in the military. Oliver’s time at the gym seemed important to him as well, but she wasn’t sure why. He had to know he looked good, but she’d yet to catch him in a vain moment. It was another mystery to add to her Oliver Queen pile. 

“You don’t have to tell me,” she said, offering him an out. Sometimes her desire to get answers translated as intrusive. They’d been communicating so well lately; she didn’t want that to change just because everything about the man interested her. “It’s ok if you’re not comfortable talking about it.” 

He hadn’t volunteered any information about his time before showing up as the face of Green Archer Construction. Not surprising when they really hadn’t talked about anything meaningful since he’d confessed his fears about his mother that first night. Ironic they’d spent more time on deep subjects before spending so much time together. 

Over the weekend, they transitioned from working at the town home to the trailer placed in front of the Frietas Four, the name they’d taken to calling the biggest project with four individual units being renovated under one roof. Six additional homes scattered around the Glades were included in the Initiative. Yes, even the first stage of the Initiative was ambitious. 

The trailer, aka their new home away from home, came with the minimum of amenities: fake wood paneled walls; scuffed, grey tiles on the floor; a functional bathroom, and a kitchenette with just enough room for a mini fridge, micro sized microwave and an ancient coffee maker. Their two desks and a couple visitor chairs took up the rest of the space, but the trailer gave them a place to get away from the dust and noise of construction. Parking was limited on the street so Felicity again found herself commuting with Oliver. The on-site dress code favored jeans so she’d at least been hopping into the pick-up without the need of any assistance. One less temptation to end the holding pattern they’d been in. 

“How I got into construction isn’t a sensitive topic.” 

Oliver’s non-answers would be maddening if she hadn’t gotten to know him better. His stalling tactics weren’t a refusal to talk, but him gathering his thoughts. She knew the bare bones of his past from investigative reports. When she’d contacted Oliver, he’d just walked away from a company he’d owned for about five years and seemingly ran for nearly another three. Prior to that, there was a gap of about 6 months where Moira’s detectives hadn’t known where he was. There was a story in there.

“If you are wondering where to start, would it be too obvious to suggest the beginning?”

He shot her an amused look, then crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. 

“That would be a month or so after my father’s death when Sara and I left Starling City together.” Her eyebrow shot up and he shook his head. “Together, though no longer together,” Oliver clarified. “There were a few nights at first but even that was more habit than anything else. The fallout from everything ended whatever crush she’d been harboring. And even if I had been looking for something, I was too messed up to be in a relationship.”

“Are you sure that’s not just what you told yourself after getting dumped?”

A chopped off laugh escaped Oliver. That convinced her more than anything that he wasn’t secretly pining for the one that got away. 

“No. Transitioning to just friends was probably the best choice Sara and I ever made. With my life in upheaval, I figured out pretty fast a friend is what I desperately needed, not a lover.” 

Felicity dropped her eyes to the files sitting on her desk. Was that Oliver’s subtle way of saying despite what he’d said earlier about putting romance on hold “for now” he had no interest in revisiting their status? Did she? 

“We headed north. When money ran low, we tried to get odd jobs here and there. Sara got hired as a waitress a few times which went about as well as my attempts at being a busboy. After about the third time one of us was fired, Sara wanted to try her luck at some spa she’d heard about that was always looking for more help.” Oliver hesitated and then frowned.

“What about you?" Felicity asked. "What did you want?”

“To go home.” 

He said it simply, but she heard the poignant ache of loneliness beneath his words. Her throat felt tight and she blinked discretely behind her glasses. She was glad Oliver wasn’t looking at her. Sympathy wasn’t always welcome. 

He sighed and shook his head. “When that didn’t work out, I joined Sara at the new place. The Nanda Parbat Spa and Meditation Retreat.”

“I’ve heard of it. Exclusive, high end, takes itself deadly serious. I think I have one of their candles.” She hid her surprise. The resort wasn’t where she’d pictured Oliver landing.

“The place had one big thing to recommend it to me. No phones, no video, no cameras, digital or old school. They were very protective of their guests’ privacy and that extended to staff. They also weren’t too worried about putting all the workers on the books.”

“Which explains the gap in your history. That and you apparently managed not to get fired this time,” she teased.

Oliver shrugged.

“The spa is isolated. Quarters for staff on site were…rustic. Turnover was high. I bounced between departments while they tried to figure out what to do with me. Worked in the kitchens long enough to learn my way around. Did a lot of landscaping. Digging holes, moving rocks.”

“What about Sara?”

“Sara found her home. She took to everything about the place: the isolation, the discipline, the touchy-feely philosophy, but above all, Nyssa, the owner’s daughter.”

Felicity leaned back in her chair. “Was that a surprise?”

“I knew Sara liked girls too. I didn’t expect her to fall in love, but they were good together.” He nodded to himself. “Still are. Sara started teaching classes in guided meditation. Made a good teacher.”

“You took her class?” she guessed. Oliver nodded.

“I had a lot of anger when I got to Nanda Parbat. At first, I found the isolation peaceful.”

“Didn’t last?”

He shook his head. “Tried Sara’s class then. I still use some of the breathing and relaxation techniques, but the rest, all the underlying theory sounded as made up as the resort’s name.” A smirk appeared on his face. “Definitely as made up as the owner’s name. Before Nyssa and Sara took over running the spa, Nyssa’s father went by the name Ra’s al Ghul. He claimed to be from a faraway land where he’d studied the mystic arts. Saw an old driver’s license of his. Real name...Russell Allen Gool…from Maine.”

She laughed and then when Oliver’s smile grew wider, her heart tripped and she hurriedly turned away to hide her flushed face. Lord, he was a beautiful man when he smiled. The trailer suddenly felt very intimate. She could feel him watching her. After a moment, Oliver picked up his tale. 

“Anyway, few months in, I was mad all the time, like a constant itch between my shoulders. I’d learned to take the jobs where I didn’t have to talk to anyone, kept to myself. Better for everyone that way.”

Felicity wasn’t sure about that. Oliver’s time at the spa sounded very lonely to her. 

“What changed?”

“Expansion. Nanda Parbat built a new meditation center.”

Before Oliver could go on, his phone rang. He straightened up from the wall and scooped up his phone off the desk. He glanced at his cell’s display.

“It’s Roy. I should take this.” 

Oliver answered and then stepped a few feet away. In the confined space, she still heard everything, even occasionally on Roy’s side of the conversation. Something about pipes.

She still hadn’t met Roy, but Oliver had begun so many sentences lately with “I just heard from Roy” she felt like she should have. From the little Oliver said, Roy lived in the Glades before he went to work for Oliver. Oliver now had him on the swing crew where he might be sent to work on any of the ten projects depending on the needs of the hour. He’d already been crew on half the sites. Conveniently, the ones Oliver usually had some concerns about. 

Oliver had ended up with five foremen reporting to him that oversaw the different projects and they all tended to be territorial. Felicity still teased that Roy was Oliver’s spy but it wasn’t far from the truth. Oliver kept their history a secret from the rest of the crew, as well as how often they spoke. 

Instead of revealing he’d heard from Roy about the questionable notched joists over on the Ramirez project, he reworked the schedule so the engineer “just happened” to start his afternoon at that site with special instructions to closely examine all support beams. She wasn’t certain the foreman even knew Oliver knew the issue might have gone undiscovered. 

Construction, even mostly from a managerial standpoint, was a big departure for Felicity, but she liked new experiences, so for a few hours on Monday, she’d stepped out of her comfort zone even more and joined in on the demolition, swinging the big hammer into old slabs of sheetrock and helping rip off sagging cabinet doors. She had no plans to switch careers, but the visceral power of destruction was compelling. Turned out knocking things down was the easy part. 

Figuring out how to put it all back together and in a timely fashion, that’s where the real skill came in. With so many concurrent sites, it took an experienced General at the helm and they were lucky to have Oliver to make sure the foremen overseeing the crews on the different sites had what they needed, when they needed it. That meant insuring each stage was done on schedule, adjusting crew size, checking supplies and equipment, making sure the right inspectors came in for the right project at the right time and all at a frenetic pace. 

Each day, Oliver delivered the marching orders and each day, nothing went exactly as planned, but Oliver coolly juggled it all. With her help, of course. As good as Oliver was, she wasn’t being immodest to say he’d never have managed on his own. He’d said as much and she liked him more for knowing it. 

They were finally through with the demo phase. Adjustments had been made for all the unpleasant surprises uncovered when the walls were opened up and all the looming disasters were under control. She was finally feeling confident the Initiative was going to work. Which was good since it falling apart before the gala at the end of the week to celebrate the start of the project would have been very awkward. 

Oliver disconnected his call and turned to her. “Could you put a couple extra guys on the security crew overnight at the Huang site?”

She opened her laptop right away to schedule the new arrangements. “Sure. What’s up?”

“Nothing for certain. A couple new guys on the crew seem a little too interested in the old copper pipe they discovered in the walls. It wouldn’t be the first time a home under construction got stripped for scrap.”

Oliver glanced at the kitchenette and asked, “Do you want some coffee?”

She nodded her head. “Yes please.” A certain perfect espresso machine had sadly not found its way home to her, but she was hitting the mid-afternoon blahs. Sometimes you had to take your caffeine where you found it. 

She finished instructions to security and tossed in a work order to rush set up of surveillance cameras at all the sites. Then, she studied Oliver as he measured in the coffee, filled the pot with water and started the brewing process. He did it with the same level of thorough concentration she’d seen him give to the Initiative. She wet her lips. Did he apply that same level of concentration to everything he did? And yes, she meant in the bedroom. 

All the deadlines and long hours, that is when you really got to know someone. She learned she had better focus, but Oliver was more patient. How he could look at the millionth supplier invoice without wanting to scream. she still didn’t know. She wouldn’t call Oliver easy going, but despite the pressures, the only time he came close to losing his temper had been when a reporter from the local channel refused to wear the required helmet on site. 

She and Oliver worked well together and more than that, she enjoyed working with him. It was funny, when they’d struck their bargain to take romance off the table, she thought it meant they’d see less of each other, not more. Most days they not only had lunch together, but usually worked through dinner as well. And last week, when she’d helped him set up the sound system to his massive flat screen, it led to testing it out with a movie that day. And unwinding with one after work pretty much every day since. 

But that was fine. Strictly platonic. Oliver had a huge, leather monstrosity of a couch and they sat at opposite ends. Then at night, she slipped between their townhomes via their back patio doors, thus avoiding any front-step flashbacks. It was fine. In fact, becoming friends would only make their partnership stronger. To get answers about his father’s murder, trust was essential between them, lust was not.

But damn, it was not so easy to turn that off. 

All the man was doing was standing around staring at a coffee pot and she was humming with awareness. But so what if her heart still hammered unexpectedly at times? And what did it matter that she might as well have started menopause with how many times a day heat flashed across her skin. Once yesterday, all it had taken was reaching for the same file. His pinky grazed the edge of her hand and poof, full body shivers.

But Oliver was a man of his word. Sparks still flew but each time they happened, that was all that happened. She should be grateful. She was still working on that too. 

Oliver opened an upper cabinet and took a couple of mugs from the wide variety she’d brought in from home. He poured the coffee and then handed her the one that read, _"There are 10 types of people in the world: those who understand binary, and those who don't.”_ He went back and retrieved his own coffee and took a sip from a lovely cobalt blue mug with the caption, _“Bowties are cool.” _ She smiled, having a hard time picturing Oliver Queen in a bowtie or watching Doctor Who for that matter, though you never could tell with Doctor Who.

She took her first sip and sighed, already feeling the life giving heat and caffeine soak into her bones. She lifted her cup in a mini salute.

“Thank you,” she said and then waited for him to resume his story without prodding. She could be patient too. 

She sipped her coffee and tried to enjoy the moment of relative calm. Through the thin walls, she heard shouts, hammers, and the muffled scream of power tools. All normal ambient sounds, she’d learned. The day crew would be ending their shift in a couple hours. She and Oliver should actually get to go home before dinner time, which meant they probably wouldn’t need to have dinner together. The thought dimmed her mood. Like the constant hammering, she’d gotten used to sharing their meals. Her patience suddenly wore thin. 

“So you said Nanda Parbat was expanding?” she prodded. 

***

Oliver heard the impatience beneath Felicity’s prompt and hid his smile. She was a woman that liked to know things. It didn’t matter what the circumstances. If there were questions, she found answers whether it was a filing mistake, crew counts or tracking down matching subway tile for the kitchen backsplash. He no longer wondered how she came to be caught up in the mystery surrounding his family. That she hadn’t yet figured it out and filled in all the blanks meant those secrets were being closely guarded. Which meant the next stage of his time back in Starling City was bound to be far more dangerous. 

Initially, he hadn’t been thrilled with the delay, but recognized Felicity had been right. He’d needed some time to process what he now knew and he had wanted his father’s legacy project to shine. Undoing the neglect it suffered had required every bit of their attention. The work had been work, but the right company could make or break any experience. The initiative was on track now. It was time to adjust his focus.

He moved closer to where Felicity waited and perched across from her on the corner of his weathered metal desk. He normally wasn’t one to open up about his past, even the relatively mild tales, but he found he wanted Felicity to know him. He took a slow sip of his coffee and then launched back into his story. 

“The basic frame of the new meditation center at the spa went up fast, I helped where I could, but the center was going to be a showpiece filled with detailed carving and extensive woodworking. A company was brought in that could do the specialty work. Green Archer Construction. I was assigned as grunt labor.” Probably because his temper had burned bridges with most department heads by that time. “I took to eating with Yao-Fei Gulong, the owner of the company, and his crew.”

Felicity tilted her head to the side. “I thought you were going through your anti-social phase.”

“They spoke mostly Chinese.”

“Ah, no forced chit-chat. Got it. Go on.”

“About a week in, Yao-Fei suddenly switched to perfect English.” Oliver paused, drank some more of his coffee and collected his thoughts. Later he’d learned some of Yao-Fei’s clients liked him more heavily accented; as a practical businessman, he sought to give the people what they wanted even if it was a bunch of xenophobic imperialism. “Yao-Fei was a former Chinese dissident who had arrived in the US on refugee status decades ago. He knew who I was and said he understood what it was like to be forced to leave behind your whole world.” 

Until Yao-Fei put a label on it, Oliver had lived with some denial, still hoping someday everything in his life could go back to the way it was. Yao-Fei took away the denial and made him face the guilt and self-loathing he’d been carrying around. “He said he recognized in me the same simmering anger and that it was only going to grow unless I took control. He offered to share his own philosophy of mindfulness and meditation.” 

“And you said yes.”

He shook his head. “Told him to fuck off.” He’d thrown a few punches as well to underline his message, but he hadn’t been any more skilled at fighting than he had been as bussing tables. Yao-Fei spun him around and he’d landed on his ass. And then Yao-Fei made the same offer the next day. And the next. Oliver shook his head. “But he was persistent.” And he offered to teach him the same move that had landed him on his ass. Oliver shrugged. “Chants and silent reflection weren’t working. I wasn’t looking to self-medicate. I had nothing left to lose.”

“So what did he teach you?”

“That I hated him more than any living human being.”

“What?”

He softly chuckled. “A temporary condition. I think his goal was enlightenment through exhaustion. Hitting the gym two, three, sometimes four times a day on top of a full day’s work wasn’t what I was expecting. When the gym wasn’t available, there were sprints through the woods. And every day stared at dawn doing a series of controlled movements something like, but nothing like what Nyssa taught in her yoga class.” 

He’d cursed the man’s name every waking moment for two weeks but when he’d fallen into bed at night, he’d slept undisturbed. Something he hadn’t managed since reading that first horrible headline.

“I’d worked out in the past but never to the degree and focus Yao-Fei demanded.”

“He was a fitness buff?”

“It wasn’t about the physical exercise. His philosophy was about all things tangible drawing you closer to the spiritual. I wasn’t feeling too spiritual, but my anger found an outlet.”

“That’s why you run every day. That’s why you were so eager to keep your appointment with Diggle at the gym even when I wasn’t up to going.”

“Running, going to the gym, helps me stay in control. I don’t need to exhaust myself anymore, but I like the routine. Yao-Fei also taught me to appreciate creation,” Oliver continued. He could see the questions forming in Felicity’s eyes. “Not in a religious sense, but the hands on act of making something new.” 

“How so?”

He shifted on the edge of the desk, leaning forward. “There’s a set of shelves in a supply closet in the meditation center that no one but the janitor will ever see. I chose the wood. Selected the length. Installed the brackets. Even tried my hand at some scroll work. I don’t have the aptitude with carving like Yao-Fei, but I made those shelves. They exist because of what I did.” He sat back and took a swig of his coffee. “I’m proud of those shelves. Probably more than the hundreds of homes I’ve helped build since.” He shook his head. “That personal sense of pride, I’d never felt that before.”

Felicity was nodding.

“I think I understand. My first official coding job was just some generic background images for a video game company, something they could plug into lots of games. Gaming was not the field I was interested in but every time that company releases a new game, I pick up a copy to see if they are still using my moss covered walls.”

“Are they?”

“Hell yes. They’re gorgeous.”

He smiled. Something he’d found he’d been doing a lot lately. “Building, whether it was a shelf or a wall, gave me for the first time a chance to make something lasting. I wasn’t merely using something up. When the work on the meditation center was complete, Yao-Fei offered me a job and his continued mentorship.”

“You must have shown more skill for carving than you realized.”

Oliver shook his head. 

“Maybe in keeping the tools sharp. I don’t have the artistic eye or talent needed for specializing in woodworking, but I was good at other things and the business did general construction projects as well. The job was a lifeline, a real chance to restart my life outside the artificial confines of the resort.”

“That was incredibly kind of him.”

“He had his reasons.” Restless, Oliver stood and walked to the end of the trailer and peered out the window, looking at the job site. “He was a master craftsman yes, but a shrewd businessman even more so. He’d built up his company getting jobs mostly by word of mouth since as unfair as it was, he was all too aware of the limitations he faced as an immigrant. He spoke English well, but except for specialized jobs, he’d get passed over for his more… familiar looking, but less skilled competitors.”

“Ouch.”

The injustice of it still ate at him. Oliver stalked back toward the kitchen area but once he got there, didn’t have a purpose. He took another sip of his coffee.

“That was where I came in. Famous or infamous, my name was a draw. And if that died down, I could still be the very Caucasian face of the company. Yao Fei shouldn’t have had to resort to tricks, but they were effective.”

“You were ok with that? The attention?” Felicity sounded skeptical. 

He took a moment to finish his coffee. Then he rinsed and set the mug in the sink before turning and leaning back against the counter, bracing himself palms down. He shook his head. No, he hadn’t liked the attention but turning on the charm was a skill he’d learned from childhood. It hadn’t been hard.

“I was hiding at the spa,” he admitted. “And time had passed. Some came to stare, but I wasn’t the headline anymore. Our partnership worked and Green Archer Construction flourished at a breakneck speed. The rest is history.”

Felicity nodded. “Not quite even two years later, after Green Archer doubled, tripled, quadrupled in a short period of time, you were made a partner in the business.”

Oliver nodded. “He wanted to spend more time with his family.” And all Oliver wanted to do was use work to avoid thinking about his. “A year later, Yao Fei retired fulltime; I was in a position to buy him out.” He’d saved every penny he’d made and leveraged it all back to take over the company. 

“Only for there to be a downturn in the construction market and yet you still managed to expand.”

“Some of the craftsmen that worked for Yao-Fei remained on staff, but Green Archer wasn’t equipped for those kinds of large scale, specialty projects anymore. I had to find a new niche for Green Archer.” 

With so many people depending on him for their jobs, he’d exploited his past and turned to many of the same people that had driven him out of town with their slander. He understood how they operated and knew those people were willing to pay a premium to at least appear like they were socially conscious.

Green Archer became synonymous with high-end, luxury, Green building practices and even when he’d jacked up his fees, he’d had a waiting list. Juggling ten small scale crews was nothing compared to what he had been in charge of. With the money flowing in, he’d paid off his debts and then bought a piece of land where he moved the base of operations. 

How long would he have stayed consumed by work that no longer left him inspired if Ray Palmer had not come around? Even a month ago, he would have said indefinitely, but now Oliver saw his exit as inevitable. Ray merely made the severance package he walked away with a hell of a lot fatter. 

“Ray’s a good guy. It doesn’t surprise me he made you a fair offer.”

Oliver’s eyes narrowed, surprised at more than being on the same wavelength. “You know Palmer?”

“Sure. Starling City’s charity scene is populated by all the same faces. Ray always livens up the dull parties. I’m sure you’ll see him Friday at the gala. Palmer Tech bought a table to support the Queen Foundation.”

“Great,” he said through tight lips. He’d been avoiding his mother’s messages about doing press before the gala. Something he already knew he wasn’t going to get out of. This gave him something else to look forward to. He was about to press Felicity for exactly how well she knew Palmer when there was a brisk knock on the trailer door. A second later without waiting to be invited, Thea’s head popped in.

“Ah, perfect, you’re both here.”

Automatically, Oliver began looking for a way to escape but she was blocking the only exit unless he wanted to pop out an emergency window. The thought was tempting. Thea was not following his plan. He kept on going out of his way to avoid her, but his little sister kept showing up where he was. Work made him easy to track down.

The first time he’d been grateful. After the attack at Verdant, resisting the urge to show up at the hospital emergency room had almost been impossible. He’d settled for a discrete call when Felicity had been busy with the alarm repairman to check in with the ER nurse. And then with no regrets, he ratted his sister out to their mother. He wasn’t sure if Thea knew he’d done it or not. She’d been sneaky like that since childhood and would wait patiently until the right moment for her revenge. 

Today, Thea was moving at a lively pace even with the awkward grey boot still strapped to her foot. Per the update she’d given last time she’d popped by unannounced, it would come off just in time before Friday’s gala. For now it wasn’t holding her back. She bounded up the few steps leading into the trailer with only the slightest hesitation while also juggling a large bag and a thick, three-ring binder tucked under her arm.

“Thea, I didn’t know you were going to stop by,” Felicity said rising from behind her desk. 

“I thought since you should be all settled in by now, I’d drop off the design book for the projects,” she explained, setting it on Oliver’s desk, before shifting back so she was still blocking the exit. Ha! He saw what she was doing. 

“Sit down,” he directed. “I’ll leave you two to discuss it.” But Thea stood firm and waved him back. 

“No, no, stay put big brother. I actually am on my way to another appointment, but I had the limo and thought I’d kill two birds, one car.”

“You’re killing birds?”

Thea snorted like Felicity said something uproarious. “I’m on my way to submit a proposal for another gig.” A knowing smile formed on her mouth. She leaned back against the door, crossed her arms, and raised her eyebrows in that eerie imitation of their mother that she did. “I figure Oliver would be thrilled to know I might be getting a new job.”

He might have been if Thea wasn’t wearing such a satisfied grin. He felt the bird metaphor more strongly. She might as well have feathers coming out of her mouth.

“I’m happy, if you are happy,” he said, refusing to rise to her bait.

“Are you happy? I mean, it’s been so long, what makes you happy? Does this…dingy trailer make you happy?”

He didn’t reply.

She looked around with an odd expression on her face. “It’s cozy, to be sure.”

“You aren’t really thinking about quitting the Foundation, are you?” Felicity asked.

“Who said anything about quitting? It’s a gig economy, right? All about the hustle,” said the trust fund baby with no hint of irony. 

“I mean, I had thought this thing with the Foundation was going to take up all my time, but I’m getting the impression it’s not such an essential step in the process after all. Just slap on some white paint and hand them a couple gift cards to Ikea and Bed, Bath, and Beyond. Did you know all those rows and rows of displays of fluffy towels that go right straight to the ceiling are all fake? It’s not hundreds of stacked towels; it’s just a few of them tucked around a foam mold to make it appear like an endless supply of Egyptian cotton. The deception, it’s disheartening, wouldn’t you say Ollie?”

“I can’t say I have an opinion on the matter.” Actually, he had noticed the towels when he’d been forced to spend time in that store. At the time, while lost in indecision, he’d been comforted to think there were others, like the poor bustards whose job it was to stack towels to the ceiling, that had it worse than him. He was disillusioned. 

“But in general, would you say you are for or against deceiving others?” Thea didn’t wait to see if he’d reply, but animatedly continued. “Even before Kindergarten, we are taught to be against such a thing, but one day you grow up and realize, wow, everyone is lying to everyone. Hiding this, concealing that. Sometimes for no apparent reason at all. It’s a shame, don’t you think? Why do you think people do that?” 

This time. Thea waited for a reply. Oliver had no idea what she was looking for him to say. Or even for certain if her breezy line of questioning was meant to be pointed. Who was he kidding? It was pointed.

He spoke to Felicity instead of Thea. “I should stop by the Ramirez site and check the progress.” Then he stood and headed toward Thea and the exit. She would have to get out of his way because he wasn’t stopping. 

“Do you think Mom would be upset if I started pole dancing?” Thea asked, cocking her head to the side. He stopped in front of her. 

“Wha…what?”

“Pole dancing. I’m thinking it might up the wow factor of what I’m proposing. It’s not just for strippers anymore, though, of course, now THAT would make quite a splash.” She glanced down at her chest. “Or maybe not. Maybe if the girls visited Dr. Elias first. He did Mom’s eye lift last year. I saw a lot of well-rounded customers in his waiting room, if you know what I mean.”

He opened and closed his mouth a few times but no sound came out.

Thea glanced at her smartwatch. “Oh, look at the time. Must dash.” She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Oliver’s cheek, waved at Felicity, and then patted him on the arm. “Don’t worry, I’ll see you soon. You can finish your thoughts then.” And then she was gone. 


	13. Chapter 13

Felicity took a long drink from her water bottle and then used the towel around her neck to wipe away the sweat still dripping from her forehead. Diggle ran a demanding class. A crowded class as well. The self-defense courses sponsored by Queen Consolidated were always well attended. He usually ran them twice a month and they were open to any employees at any level of skill as well as any members of Wildcat’s Gym. 

Wildcat’s normally catered to a more hardcore fitness crowd that thought a few rounds in the boxing ring with helmet, pads and gloves meant they were already Rocky Balboa, but Diggle always had many first time students, mostly, but not all, women, as well as returning students. Before Diggle went through his standard lecture on self-defense which included some simple, basic moves and some common sense advice, he set up the more advanced students to practice holds and escape moves. The sweat was from how many times he expected them to repeat the drills under his exacting eye before moving on to work on the next skill. At least his official classes were a smidge less taxing than his private tutorials. Thank god for padded mats. 

She tried to convince herself she had sweat enough to skip doing cardio, but dutifully went to refill her bottle at the cooler before picking out a stationary bike with a good view of the weight circuit. There were a number of muscled grunters dropping their barbells with attention getting clangs but it was Oliver’s quieter, but no less intense, workout regime that had her attention. It had been nearly two weeks since the first time she’d seen him shirtless. It remained a good look. But all she was doing was looking. Strictly platonic looking. 

Across the room, Oliver put down the free weights and moved toward a tall metal structure that in all the times she’d been to Wildcat’s Gym, she’d never been able to figure out. It looked like a bar for chin ups but the bar wasn’t fixed and the sides of the contraption went up at least 12 feet in the air. A heavy duty, metal notch shaped like a V cradled the bar, but above it were another half dozen similar V shaped notches, vertically spaced about 12 inches apart which made no sense unless on her days off the gym hosted membership to giants. 

She watched with extra appreciation when Oliver grabbed the shirt he’d pulled off earlier and used it to mop his brow and wipe some of the excess sweat from his chest. His glistening, defined chest. Now that she knew Oliver’s workouts were practically a form of spiritual meditation, should she appreciate the physical side effect less or more? 

Oliver hit the gym at some point every day. That kind of schedule was too much for her, even with the free floor show, but Wildcat’s had seen more of her in the last week than all of last month—ok, all of last summer. If she wasn’t careful, this was going to become a habit.

After Thea left a befuddled Oliver, he’d changed his mind about visiting the Ramirez project and they’d gone over the schedule for the rest of the week. It looked like they were on track. Thursday looked routine except for a morning conference call with a big Foundation donor and Friday, the crew was all cutting out early so those attending the Foundation Gala would have time to get ready. 

Promptly at five, as she was just shutting down her computer for the day, Diggle’s reminder about the class had popped onto her phone. Oliver offered to drive them since he was planning a trip to the gym anyway and suggested, to save time, they pick up some take out to eat before they left. So they’d done that and while yes, she regretted that second egg roll before working out, she’d been oddly pleased about them keeping their dinner streak alive. Which was a silly thing to care about.

She went to college young, lived alone as an adult, and had grown up with her mother usually working evening shifts; Felicity had spent most of her life eating meals alone. She was fine eating alone. She liked eating alone. No one there to judge her on using wasabi on Taco Tuesday or making the dairy in a pint of Mint Chip her main source of protein on a particularly depressing Friday. Alas, also no one there to point out when she’d accidentally eaten a peanut but that was what the epi-pen was for. So the happy warmth in her chest when Oliver still wanted to grab dinner together even when they weren’t working late really didn’t make any sense. Or at least it shouldn’t have. 

Across the room while Oliver eyed the strange chin up bar, Felicity noticed she wasn’t the only one watching. It was a no brainer why the ladies from the self-defense class were still lingering and pure animal appreciation could account for probably ten percent of the men at the gym as well, but even the boxers in the ring took a break and hung over the ropes to watch. Oliver was at the center of the attention but remained solely focused on whatever he was going to do.

He reached up for the bar and effortlessly did a pull up. Watching the muscles move in his chest and seeing his biceps and triceps bulge was very pleasant but surely not worth stopping the whole gym. Then, he went to do another chin up and with an explosive clang, he and the bar jumped up a rung. Her eyes widened. 

In quick succession, he climbed another few rungs. She was watching him do it, but the energy propelling him upward, with his body steadily aligned beneath him, was almost like it came from nowhere, like some kind of magic trick. She was mesmerized.

Oliver paused and hung straight armed for a moment, panting while sweat dripped from his short hair. He gathered himself up and with another burst of power, finished off the final two rungs before dropping gracefully to ground to the applause of the gym. Only then did he acknowledge those watching him. 

He held up his hands in an “it was nothing” kind of gesture and smiled, glancing around the room. When his eyes alighted on her, she swore his smile deepened and he sent her a little head nod which for no good reason made her blush even as she clapped and smiled back with the rest of the gym. Maybe it was time for cardio to be over. She was pulling her unused ear buds out when a swarm of her former co-workers swept past her and starting buzzing around Oliver like he was the honey missing from their hive. She frowned. Maybe she hadn’t been the one he was smiling at after all. 

Earlier he’d made that comment about needing a friend not a lover. Since their talk to put romance to the side, he’d been completely appropriate, never a wrong word or action. She’d appreciated his restraint, but had he actually had to exercise self-control? Maybe once they’d taken romance off the table, he found he wasn’t that interested. Had the heated tension between them since all been one-sided? She hadn’t had a word gaff, but he had to have noticed the way she stalked him with her eyes. Had she made him uncomfortable while they were working? Oh God, they’d been working!! She was the creeper in this scenario. Mortified, she felt her ears turn hot. 

Oliver promised their first kiss wouldn’t be their last, but with time flying by from his promised two months, maybe he decided staying in the friend zone was for the best. And if so, fine, whatever. He just should have come out and told her things had changed.

Not that that she’d had any real intentions of letting things go farther than another kiss. Getting close to someone that had made it clear he was only around temporarily would be dumb. She’d had enough people in her life move on without her for her to learn that lesson. She wasn’t upset he changed his mind, no, of course not, she just didn’t like feeling misled. 

She popped her ear buds back in place and cranked up her workout play list. And old song by Linkin Park came on and she peddled faster. The screaming metal anthem suddenly perfectly suited her mood. Not that she was about to break, one step closer or not. She didn’t care about Oliver’s fan club or on whom he lavished his attention. She had plenty of other times to talk to Oliver Queen. She wasn’t about to swoon over him just because he was the only one apparently at the gym that knew how to use a piece of exercise equipment.

Unable to help herself, Felicity glanced his direction. She instantly regretted it. Scowling, she watched as Oliver coached a particularly predatory-looking, lean brunette through the tricks of jumping to the higher rung. How in the first place had they even gotten the bar back down from the top? Who decided Lycra had to be skin tight? Why was she wasting her time on pointless questions? She put her head down, increased the resistance to the pedals, and focused on her burning calf muscles instead. 

When she finished her half hour on the bike, Oliver was still surrounded by his groupies begging for tips on their form that they just couldn’t get right. She huffed in disgust. Of course they couldn’t, not when getting it wrong earned them another close encounter with a still shirtless Oliver. 

Done with the whole scene, she headed toward the locker rooms. Maybe by the time she showered, he’d be finished letting women crawl over him. Why couldn’t she have taken her own car to the gym? He was her temporary boss and her temporary partner in unearthing secrets about his father. He wasn’t supposed to be her gym buddy. 

“Your boy is pretty popular.” Diggle said, coming up beside her, his gym bag over his shoulder.

“It’s embarrassing the way they are fawning over him. The place is packed with defined abs and rippling biceps. You’d think they’d never seen a man without his shirt before.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a smirk settle on John’s lips. “What? I’m offended on your behalf. Your biceps are twice as big,” ok, that was a slight exaggeration, “and they’re completely ignoring you.” That was a bigger exaggeration since despite John being a happily married man and relatively new father, she knew more than half of the initial sign-ups for the self-defense class were from employees that drooled over Queen Consolidated's hunky Head of Security. Did people say hunky anymore? 

John laughed. “No, I don’t think they do.”

“Frack, did I say that aloud?”

“I’ll take the compliment as intended. Word got round that Queen could do the salmon ladder all the way to the top. It’s been a few years since Wildcat’s brought the ladder in, but it doesn’t get much use. The novelty will wear off. As for me, I’m happy to get out of here early for a change.”

“You’re leaving?” She perked up. “Hey, could you drop me off on your way home?”

He nodded toward Oliver. “Didn’t you ride together?”

“Yes, but he looks like he’s going to be occupied for a while. Plus, um, I forgot to bring clean clothes to change into,” she lied, “so no point in showering at the gym.” Diggle didn’t look like he entirely bought her reasons but told her to get her stuff and meet him outside. She quickly ran back to the locker room, packed up her gym bag, and then stopped at the front desk to ask if she could leave a message for Oliver. 

“Sure, I’ll just add it to the pile.”

She frowned. Maybe texting him would be a better option, but before she could tell the man behind the counter never mind, he leaned in and lowered his voice. “For twenty bucks, I can get you his number and for another twenty, I’ll make sure the other messages get lost.” 

She blinked at him and then turned on her heel and left without another word. 

By morning, after too much tossing and turning, she was willing to privately admit she’d overreacted by a mile. Oliver hadn’t asked for those women to hang on him. He hadn’t made any inappropriate moves—though couldn’t he have done more to discourage them? Still, what was he supposed to do? Beat them off with the metal chin up bar? No, no, what he did or didn’t do with other women had nothing to do with their partnership, she told herself firmly. 

Last night she hadn’t been jealous per se, merely embarrassed by mistaken assumptions. But that’s why the embargo on romance needed to be in place, to keep messy ideas out of her head. With all the time they’d spent together, it was only natural some thoughts crept back in. 

What they needed was a break. 

Since they’d worked through last weekend, Oliver owed her time off. After they handled the conference call with the donor, Oliver could handle the job on his own for a couple days. She’d spend the time focusing on her real future, plans for her company. She’d neglected it lately. Maybe Curtis could come over tonight. Satisfied, she rolled out of bed, hit the shower and got dressed.

Disdaining her jeans for reasons she saw no reason to dwell on, she chose a simple, short sleeve, sage, knit two-piece. She planned on driving so the length wasn’t important. She glanced at her reflection in the full length mirror. She looked good. Not that she was trying to dress up. When she worked for Moira, this was her normal. 

She went to the kitchen to brew her first cup of coffee and realized she was running ahead of schedule for once. She’d only just decided to treat herself to a morning coffee run, skipping right to the good stuff, when Oliver knocked. That she recognized his knock was another clue they’d been spending too much time together. 

She opened her front door and on the other side, Oliver stood with two lidded cups in his hand. He handed one to her.

“One Caramel Macchiato with extra caramel.”

“Oh! Thank you,” she said, accepting with pleasure. It was exactly the treat she needed. And she didn’t have to wait in a line. She took her first sip. Ambrosia. 

Oliver hesitated on her doorstep and she stepped back to invite him in. “Did I get the time wrong?” she asked. “Do we need to leave early? I thought the call wasn’t until 9:15.” She knew she hadn’t got the time wrong, but one could be magnanimous with a plan under your belt and a free coffee in your hand. 

“I wanted to stop by early and check on you. How are you feeling?”

She took another sip of her coffee. “I’m fine. Really, it was just a headache.” By the time she’d texted Oliver, she had developed one, so that wasn’t a lie. “I probably should have hydrated better. Dinner came with a lot of sodium.”

“I should have suggested a healthier place.”

“Hey, I could have had the stir fry like you.”

“Anything but just egg rolls might have been a good idea.”

She shrugged. “I didn’t like their Szechuan sauce. I’ll remember that next time we order from Hunan Palace.” She would start enforcing some boundaries, but it would be illogical to change most of their habits just because she’d gotten the wrong idea about where this was eventually going to go. They made good friends and whether or not she’d been imagining a sizzle still between them or not, it was best they stayed friends. 

“I was thinking maybe we change things up tonight,” Oliver began.

Ok, now was the time to start putting some of those boundaries back in place. 

“I know we talked about trying that new Indian place we passed,” she began, “but—” he interrupted.

“Actually, I was thinking I could cook. At home. Or your place. Whichever you preferred.”

“You want to cook for me?” She adjusted her glasses to sit more firmly on her nose. She was floored. Not even her mother cooked for her. Not unless you counted frozen things that went into the oven. It could have been a trick of the morning light, but Oliver’s face looked a little flushed.

“Like I said, I learned my way around a kitchen. I have a couple lean steaks marinating, some asparagus that you will die for and strawberries fresh this morning from the farmer's market.”

“You went to the farmer’s market this morning?” Oliver had gone shopping and prepped for dinner already and she’d been proud of being twenty minutes ahead of her morning routine. He’d gone to so much effort, but what about the plan? A cozy dinner at home where he cooked for her wasn’t going to make anything less confusing. But she wanted it. Badly.

“What do you say? Consider it a celebration of our first week of the Initiative in action.”

Like yesterday’s egg rolls, just because she wanted to gobble it down, didn’t mean it was good for her. She had a plan. She needed to stick to the plan.

“Well, that’s what the gala is for, right?”

*** 

Oliver saw it on Felicity’s face, her hesitation, and his spirits dropped. No, hesitation wasn’t the right word. Her evasion, yes, that was better. He’d had a feeling since her headache excuse last night that something was off. But what had sent her running home? Whatever it was, it still had her backing away. His gut told him dinner wasn’t happening. He tried anyway.

“Friday is a fundraiser. Trust me, fundraisers are never about what they are celebrating. We’ve accomplished a lot in a short amount of time and I couldn’t have done it without you. Let me say thank you with dinner.” He saw longing in her eyes and for a moment, he thought he’d convinced her. At least she looked conflicted when she turned him down. Funny, it didn’t really make him feel better.

“Thank you, but no. I’m busy tonight. I haven’t met with Curtis since you came to town. Haven’t touched my coding projects in days. I’ll probably will be swamped all weekend.”

“We could reschedule for lunch. It wouldn’t take long to pop home at noon or if steak isn’t your thing, I know a nice Italian place.” God, he was one step away from pleading. 

“Actually, about that. I’ll be there for the conference call, but then I need the rest of the day off. Friday too.”

He frowned and asked, “To work on your unnamed company or get ready for the gala?”

She raised her chin. “Both. Look, we worked hard to finish ahead of schedule for the Foundation and I gave up a lot of my personal time to do it. I’ve earned the time away. Besides, you must be sick of me as well.” She flushed. “Not that I’m trying to say I’m sick of you.”

But wasn’t she? He backtracked and changed gears a bit.

“Good because dinner wasn’t entirely without ulterior motives. With the Initiative up and running, it’s time to strategize about the real reason I’m here.”

“We already talked about what’s next. You’re going to speak to Walter at the gala. See what he’s willing to tell you.”

“That’s just one step. You haven’t even told me what you are looking to find on the Merlyn Global servers after the merger goes through.”

“Because I don’t know what I’m looking for. That’s the whole point in looking. Can I have the day off or not? And before you answer, I’m really not asking. This company is my future and I’m not putting off my dreams any longer than I absolutely must.” 

Dreams that included putting this complicated and dangerous mess with his family behind her. How was he supposed to compete against the fantasy or the reality? Compete? Was that what he was trying to do? Irritation washed though him. 

“No, by all means, take whatever time you think you need. With the failure rate of most start-ups, I understand doing all you can to not become just another statistic.”

She pursed her lips, like she was holding back a comment. Seems he’d hit a nerve.

“I am confident we’re not going to be like your average start up. Curtis is a brilliant and creative engineer. QC is wasting his talents having him play with algorithms and troubleshooting other people’s projects.”

“So you’ve mentioned before.” Several times. Too many times. “I can see why you banded together to dream about leaving dead end jobs.”

“We’re doing more than dreaming. We already have seed money of over a half a million dollars waiting for us for when we formally launch our company.”

He nodded. “Impressive. But let me give you a tip about investors. They can be flighty, impatient. You never know when they are going to start looking elsewhere.”

Felicity’s eye’s flashed and she put her hands on her hips

“All the more reason I should work on making the company happen sooner rather than later.”

She was annoyed at him. He didn’t blame her. Every word out of his mouth had been petty and undermining. He was about to apologize for being jealous over a company–not that he was going to put it that way—when there was a knock at her door. Before Felicity could answer, it swung open.

“Felicity, it’s me.” Thea called out. “Oh, hello, big brother.” 

That was his cue to leave, but before he could, his sister spotted the coffee cup he held in his hand. 

“Ah, perfect, you are a lifesaver,” she said and scooped it up as her own. On her first sip, she made a face. “Blech. Black coffee? How cliché.” She went to Felicity’s fridge and found the flavored creamer she knew would be there and fouled his cup. Fitting the lid back in place, she took another sip. “Much better.” 

He narrowed his eyes. Clearly Thea and Felicity’s taste in coffee were more closely aligned, but she’d zeroed in on his cup. She’d done it on purpose to needle him. All part of Thea ignoring his attempts to ignore her. She was the same speedy ball of energy he remembered her to be as a child. Adding caffeine seemed like overkill.

“Thea, I could have made you coffee,” Felicity said, mild reproval in her voice. She took coffee rights seriously. 

“Ha!” Thea waved her cup in her direction. “I notice you’re not offering to share yours.” His sister shook her head. “No, I’m good with this, though maybe Oliver wants some?”

“No. I’ll take care of it myself.” He caught Felicity’s eye. With the intent to leave, he reminded her, “The conference call is at 9:15; I’ll be back when it’s time to go.” Both Felicity and Thea spoke at the same time.

“I’m going to take my own car this morning.” 

“Don’t you want to hear my news?”

He stifled his irritation on both fronts. Ignoring Thea, he shook his head. 

“There’s no place for you to park.”

“I’ll park up the street and walk.”

“Not in the Glades. I’ll drop you home later.” He turned to go.

“Seriously,” Thea called after him, “you aren’t going to wait for my news?”

He paused and scratched at his eyebrow. “Felicity can fill me in later. Right now, I need to go make coffee, remember?”

Thea only laughed at his grumbling. “This will only take a second. The least you can do is congratulate me as the newest employee at Verdant.” Thea squealed. “Tommy offered me a job!”

Concern flashed over Felicity’s face. “What? When did that happen?”

He wanted to know as well. He’d been trying to pin down Tommy to talk for more than a week but he kept flittering in and out of town. 

“Officially, just today, but I’ve been helping out here and there since last week. His day guy at the club just vanished on him. Didn’t even leave a note or anything and with Tommy having to be out of town and the napkin guy still needing to be met, I went back the next day.”

“The day after being attacked. Thea!”

“Felicity, relax, you made sure the alarm was working again and I didn’t go alone. I let Mom’s driver take me. It was no big deal.”

Oliver shook his head. “That’s a short term solution. You have no business going to the Glades alone every day even with a working alarm.” A gleam appeared in his sister’s eye. He set his jaw. Thea was deliberately trying to get a rise out of him, but would she go so far as essentially becoming a night watchman on day hours? And how would her crack about pole dancing factor into that? He was missing something. 

“Oh, no, I’m not the new day guy. Tommy’s replacing the one that wandered off. My gig is during regular club hours. And before you start freaking out, Felicity, you said it yourself, Tommy has tons of security there when the club is open.”

Felicity furrowed her brow. “Thea, is a nightclub really the environment you want to spend your time in?” 

“Please, I practically grew up at clubs like Verdant.”

Oliver frowned. Thea talked like her familiarity had gone on a hell of a lot longer than for the brief time she’d headlined gossip sites in high school. That couldn’t be right. He shook his head. 

“You’re not 21.” The legal drinking age had never stopped him when he’d been growing up, but this was Thea. Besides, sneaking into a club with a fake ID was completely different from working there underage. 

“It’s all perfectly legal as long as I’m not the one serving the drinks. That’s what the bartenders are for. I’m more like the party planner, only I get to join the party.”

Felicity was still frowning. “Thea, what does your mother say about this?”

“Do you really have to ask? I promise you, it will be fine. More than fine. This is good news and you are both hereby officially invited to my debut this Saturday. It would have been Friday, but Mom would kill me if I didn’t show up for the gala. You’ll come Saturday, won’t you Felicity?” Thea entreated. Felicity didn’t lose her worry lines but she nodded.

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

Thea turned expectantly to him. “How about you?”

He wasn’t in the mood for her games.

“I don’t dance,” he said coldly. Thea’s face fell and behind his back he felt a pinch. He scowled at Felicity and she scowled back. He stifled a sigh and then dutifully turned back to Thea shaking his head. “I’m sorry I can’t be there. I have some business I need to see to.”

“On a Saturday night?”

“Perhaps you should reschedule it,” Felicity prompted, finding his excuse as weak as Thea. 

He opened his mouth to firmly shoot that idea down, but he made the mistake of glancing at Thea. The wistful hopefulness he glimpsed in his sister’s eyes was too much. He sighed. It was a nightclub and she’d be working. How much would they even really interact? He wouldn’t make any promises though. 

“I’ll look into what can be done.” 

“Perfect! Then I’ll see you both there Saturday night.” Thea spun around to go.

“I said I’ll try, Thea.”

“Try hard big brother. See you at the gala.” And just as quickly as she had arrived, she left. 

Oliver turned to Felicity. “If you’re ready, we should go in early to tie up any loose ends before the conference call. I’ll put one of the foremen on call for emergencies after that.”

“What? Why”

“I think you had the right idea. We both could use the time off.” He hadn’t been lying about having some business to take care of, but he wasn’t going to put it off until Saturday. It was time he tracked Tommy down. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be posting later today a continuing chapter.


	14. Chapter 14

***

“Hello?” Oliver called out as he pushed open the back door to Verdant. No one had answered when he knocked and the door was open. There was a tan Honda Civic sitting outside so someone was here. He wasn’t one hundred percent positive they were supposed to be here, it was the Glades after all, but Thea had said Tommy hired a new day manager. 

Tommy continued to be elusive. For the last two weeks he was never at home at the fancy condo he owned, never answered his calls and only responded to texts with a generic “Can’t talk now, catch you later.” 

Well, Tommy had his baby sister working for him. He could damn well talk now. But first, the same problem persisted; he needed to find him.

He texted Thea and asked if she knew where Tommy was without telling her why he wanted to talk to him. She hadn’t been sure but thought he was back in LA. He wasn’t going to hop a plane on an “I think so,” so after dropping Felicity at home, Oliver spent the rest of Thursday calling hotels and later restaurants and clubs in the LA area with no luck. He’d still been on the phone when Curtis showed up after work at Felicity’s place and he’d still been making calls to clubs when, with great satisfaction, he’d watched Curtis leave shortly before midnight. 

It occurred to him somewhere in between that Felicity could have tracked Tommy down easily. Hell, she might not have even had to resort to the hacking and tracking skills that had run him to ground. He’d seen proof Felicity and Tommy had the kind of relationship where Merlyn just sauntered in and out of her home. Did that kind of relationship include always knowing where the other was?

He didn’t have Felicity’s special abilities, but he had other skills. After checking Tommy’s condo again and seeing no sign of his black Jaguar, Oliver headed to Verdant. Running crews for 8 years taught him a thing of two about making sure employees accommodated his wishes—even if they weren’t _his_ employees. Whoever Tommy hired as his day watchman must have a way of contacting him. 

He wasn’t sure it was a good sign that the alarm appeared to be off once more. The metal door closed with a solid thud behind him as he cautiously entered. The lights were on. Would a burglar like the one Thea and Felicity ran into bother turning on the lights? The lights being on were about the only thing encouraging. The place was quiet. No one came to check on who had just walked in.

The continued silence had him on edge and only worsened his already foul mood. He didn’t like how he’d left it with Felicity. She’d been learning to trust him again but something had happened to make her pull away. And when she’d made it clear she wasn’t looking to change the rules of their deal yet, if ever, he’d reacted like a jealous ass and then compounded everything by overlooking the apology he owed her. By the time he’d surfaced from his Tommy fixation, it was too late and at that point, all he’d be doing was disrespecting her not so subtle request for space which meant tonight at the gala was the soonest he could get this weight off his chest. It wasn’t hard to channel his frustrations onto Tommy’s irritating habit of popping up, causing trouble, and vanishing. Ha! You’d think he was related to Thea. 

Oliver glanced at his watch. Even if the day watchman put him in contact right away, he was running out of time. A flight from Starling to LA was at least a couple hours each way and that wasn’t even counting checking in and getting through security. He could not miss the Foundation’s gala so even if he got Tommy’s info, he’d probably be twiddling his thumbs the rest of his day. That pissed him off even more. Already spoiling for a fight, he doubted he’d have any trouble convincing the day guy it was in his personal best interests to tell him exactly where his boss was. 

He glanced down the hall that dead ended in access to the sub-basement. He saw a lot of stacked boxes but nothing else. He headed into the main club area and finally saw some signs of life. A clipboard and a rag had been left behind on the bar like someone had momentarily stepped away. And up on the second floor, light glowed behind the blurred glass door marked “Employees Only.” 

Finally.

On the way up the stairs, Oliver considered if pulling out the charming playboy might be a better plan. Honey _was_ probably more effective as a rule, but today he hoped whoever Tommy hired needed firmer persuasion. He rapped on the door. It flew open.

“Who the hell is out there?” Tommy Merlyn barked standing in the doorway, an aluminum bat raised above his head.

For a moment, they both stared at each other in surprise; Tommy lowered his bat.

“Jesus, Oliver.”

“If you didn’t want to be disturbed, you should try locking the back door.”

Tommy craned his neck toward the back. “Dammit. I thought I had. The lock is supposed to be tied to the alarm. It hasn’t been reliable since before the last break in. Never mind. How did you know I was here?” He asked as he came out and shut the office door behind him. Or at least Oliver assumed normally it was an office.

Before Tommy closed the door, he’d seen a desk with a computer, some files—typical office stuff—but there had also been boxes stacked to the ceiling, a water pipe being used as a clothing rack, and an open, fold-out couch with a basket of toiletries sitting on the end of the mattress like you’d see a college dorm dweller schlep down to the showers. Did Verdant have showers?

“Actually, I didn’t know you were here.”

“But you came because you like to boogie in private?” Tommy asked sarcastically, sidling past him toward the balcony overlooking the dance floor. 

“I came to see you.”

Tommy smirked over his shoulder as he started to descend the stairs. “But you didn’t know I was here.”

“I was looking for you.”

“I don’t recall being lost.”

Oliver held onto his patience. Tommy went back behind the bar, picked up the clipboard and began checking a list against the liquor bottles on the wall behind him, occasionally jotting down a note.

“I left you several messages. You’ve been avoiding me. ”

“Yeah, well you avoided me for 8 years.”

This conversation was going nowhere. He got down to the bottom line.

“Thea shouldn’t be working at a night club in the Glades.”

Tommy turned back to face him and tossed the clipboard on the bar.

“Thea is an adult. She gets to decide that.”

“She not even 21”

“She will be in a handful of months. Besides, I checked it out. She can work here as long as she’s not distributing or consuming drinks.”

“This isn’t what she should be doing,” Oliver insisted. Tommy rolled his eyes and came out from behind the bar.

“What do you know about what she should be doing? What do you even care?”

“She’s my sister. I care.”

Tommy scoffed. 

“Not from where I’m standing. She had another job all lined up, remember? She was excited about it too. But then you sailed in and shot it down.”

“I’m not stopping her from working on our father’s Memorial Initiative.”

“No, you just sucked any joy from it by treating her like an annoyance,” Tommy said, poking him in the chest, “and then you pawned her off on Felicity.” He shook his head and scoffed again, turning away. “I can’t believe she defends you. Just how is your indentured servant?”

“Leave Felicity out of this.” It was before noon, but there was alcohol on Tommy’s breath. Tommy pivoted back around. He wasn’t swaying on his feet but there’d been a wobble that wouldn’t have been there if he wasn’t at least a little drunk.

“Can’t.” He waggled his pointer finger. “She’s right at the center. She brought you here. She thinks you’re the solution to everyone’s problem. But I don’t want your help!”

“Tommy.” Oliver sighed. “You’re not making much sense. Look, I know you’ve been drinking…”

“It’s a bar Oliver.”

“It’s still morning.”

“Since when did that matter? The Oliver I remember didn’t let the clock tell him when he could have a good time. Didn’t let anyone tell him what he could do. No. There were no rules for the golden boy. How many girls did you cheat on Laurel with over the years before you got around to sleeping with her sister? I knew about a dozen.” 

Oliver pressed his lips together tightly. The number was probably higher than that. He’d cheated constantly when he was with Laurel. God, what an unfeeling bastard he’d been. Half the time, he hadn’t even tried to hide the other girls. Sometimes she’d call him on them. They’d break up. He’d move on. Then she’d come back saying she’d forgiven him. And it would be good again for a little while until it wasn’t. 

They went on like that all through Laurel’s time at college. Finally, when she was getting ready to graduate, she wanted them to move in together. Instead of breaking things off for good, he asked her sister to sneak off on a yacht trip to China. He’d promised Sara no one would ever find out but deep down, he’d known the kind of torpedo he’d launched. He had trouble recognizing the coward he’d been.

“That was a long time ago. I’m not that selfish person anymore.”

“You’re not selfish?” Tommy laughed; it was a bitter sound. “You came back even more selfish. God, Thea wanted you home. Your mom, too. You went away under a cloud of shame but that only made you the prodigal son. Anything you wanted, you got. Do you know what your mom gave up to give you Felicity? How much she relied on her at the office? Or with Thea? How much just the idea of you coming home thrilled her? Or how important working with you was to her? But you don’t care about any of that. If you could, you’d avoid them both while you’re here.” 

Tommy turned away, bracing his hands against the gleaming acrylic surface of the bar. He shook his head. “Why did you come back? You might as well have stayed away if all you were going to do was abandon them in person.”

“I came back to honor my father’s legacy,” Oliver replied tightly. Tommy was drunk, but not so drunk that he didn’t mean what he said. Tommy had been his best friend from childhood until he left town. When he moved away, there’d been people he came to call friends, but never another friend like Tommy. He’d be lying if he said the goading accusations weren’t getting to him. Tommy laughed again. 

“If your think showing up to fix the houses of strangers honors your father’s legacy, you don’t know anything about your father.”

“You’re one to talk,” Oliver barked. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Tommy swung back around, scowling. 

“You want to talk about honoring what your father would want? You’re living in a nightclub, Tommy. The Civic outside. It’s yours, isn’t it? I thought it belonged to your day manager but those were Armani suits hanging on the pipe. You didn’t even hire a day watchmen. That’s you, isn’t it? And the Jag, the condo, they’re gone, aren’t they. How’d you lose them?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’ve always been a terrible liar and never very original. Last time your dad cut you off, you sold the Alfa Romero Spider he gave you for graduation just so you could go to Vegas for the weekend. Is that where you’ve been on your urgent business trips? Gambling away the tiny slice of inheritance your father let you near? How long before you have to sell the club?”

“Fuck you,” Tommy growled, balled his right hand into a fist and swung. The punch caught Oliver unaware, right below the cheek. An explosion of pain radiated back through his skull transforming his simmering annoyance to rage. Without even thinking, Oliver returned the blow. When his fist connected to flesh, rational thoughts started seeping back in, but Tommy came at him with a roar, propelling them toward the middle of the dance floor. He pushed him away. Tommy pointed at him.

“You think you know me? You don’t know shit.” He spat on the ground. “And how could you? You weren’t here. Life finally got real and you bailed. On Starling City. On your family. On me.” 

“I didn’t have a choice. You know that. I tried to come back and Moira had security throw me out. _She_ abandoned me. Why should I forgive her?”

“Dammit! What about me?” Tommy pounded his chest. “I never kicked you out. I’m the one that came and got you. Even after what you did to Laurel. Even after she said she never wanted to see me again because I was your best friend. I’m still the one that sobered you up. I’m the one that gave you money. You left and never looked back and for the last eight years, I was the one here trying to fill in for the big brother that Thea actually wants.” 

Oliver didn’t know what to say. He’d missed his family, missed Tommy but he’d left thinking they wouldn’t be missing him. He’d been too wrapped up in what he’d lost to think of anyone else for a long time. By the time his anger subsided, so much time had passed. 

“I’m grateful for all you did. More than I can say.”

“Well, you have a hell of a way showing it. Because when I needed my best friend, where were you? When my father was MURDERED, where were you?” Tears sprang to Tommy’s eyes. “He was a bastard, but God, Oliver. I needed you.”

“Tommy…I…it had been five years. I thought I’d only be in the way.”

“Of who? The people we partied with? None of them were real. We were real. Brothers by choice.”

Shame flooded him. “You’re right. I should have come back. I just…You weren’t very happy with me last I saw you. With Laurel moving away…”

“Laurel. God, I had it bad back then. And all she could see was you.” Tommy shook his head. “I was so sure she’d wake up and realize you didn’t love her. That she only loved some ideal of you that lived in her imagination. And then when the shit finally hit the fan, she was gone.”

Humiliated, Laurel left town with her parents close behind, vowing to never return. Laurel’s friendship with Tommy had been collateral damage. He and Tommy had come to blows back then as well. It was a hell of a way to find out about Tommy’s feelings for Laurel. If he’d known, maybe he’d have had the courage to end things with Laurel years earlier. Losing Tommy’s support had been the final straw. Oliver copied Laurel and left Starling, not planning to come back, but he’d been unequipped for a life without his family or his family’s money smoothing the way. He’d come home only to find he wasn’t welcome. 

Turned away at the mansion’s front door, he’d spent his last bit of money on getting drunk before getting a ride back to the house to try one more time. He’d been hauled outside and given a few reminders from the guards’ fists not to try it again. More heartbroken than hurt, he’d called Tommy and when he’d most needed him, he’d been there. Oliver wished he could say the same thing.

“I’m sorry. I thought staying away was doing you a favor. Or it’s what I told myself.”

Tommy pulled out a chair and wearily sat down “I tried to find you. Like two months after you left. Got a private investigator and everything. He said you were a ghost. No bank account, no address, no phone. Nothing on the internet. I even had him try to track Sara. Nothing. Both of you were just gone. Felt like you’d died along with your dad.”

“For a while, I wished I had.” 

“I never wanted that. I wanted you here. When you finally popped up, I called. I wrote. Nothing. I started to wonder if I was the ghost. And now you are here and…” Tommy trailed off and rubbed his hands over his face. “God what a mess.”

“I’m sorry.” Oliver said again, feeling it in waves coming off his body. Regret for being too angry and proud, and eventually, too ashamed of his past to respond. “I’m sorry about it all. You had every right to be angry. Still do. I treated Laurel unforgivably.”

“I blamed you for her leaving, for taking away my happy ending, but God, what a self-righteous prick I was. I never said a word about your cheating. Hell, I encouraged you. Figured it was one step closer to me getting what I wanted.” Tommy shook his head. “She was right to walk away from both of us. I think I was so mad at you because deep down I knew I wasn’t any better.”

“All that was a long time ago. You ever think about looking her up?”

“It _was_ a long time ago and no. It’s not Laurel I’ve spent the last 8 years missing.

“I’ve missed you too.”

“So you going to do anything about it? Or are you going to vanish again once the job is done?”

Oliver pulled out a chair for himself and sank heavily into it, the weight of bad choices having drained him of energy. “I’m not sure what I plan on doing.”

Tommy nodded silently and then added, “I’m sorry about punching you. Kind of.”

Oliver smiled but shook his head. “Don’t be. I deserved it. I’m the one that’s sorry…for all of it. I shouldn’t have pressed your buttons like that.”

Tommy nodded again. “You were wrong, you know. Not about me selling the condo and the Jag, but about why.”

“Why then?” 

“I’ll tell you, but first, a toast.” He flexed his hand a couple times as he got up. “And maybe some ice. God, you have a hard head,” he complained but there was no heat behind it. Back behind the bar, he made up an ice pack by wrapping some ice in a towel. “You want one?”

Oliver’s hand throbbed, but he wasn’t interested in numbing the pain. “I’m good.”

“Suit yourself.” He finished up and retrieved a pair of long necked bottles, popped the tops and slid one toward Oliver. Oliver picked up the cold brew. 

“What are we toasting?”

“To my father being right.”

Oliver put the beer down. Malcolm Merlyn had never said a kind word about his son without an agenda. From what he’d heard, even in death he’d found a way to taunt Tommy about not being the son he’d wanted.

“Tommy, what’s going on?” He nodded toward the office. “How long have you been living here?”

“It’s recent. And temporary,” he was quick to add. “And you don’t have to worry about Thea working here for long either. In a month, I’ll be homeless and Thea will be jobless. Cheers!” Tommy tipped back the bottle for a long drink. 

“What? I thought Verdant was doing well.” Exceptionally well. That was the buzz around town. “What happened?”

“Long story short,” Tommy paused and took another swig, “I need $500,000 within the next two weeks or I lose it all. My trust fund is shut off. No one is willing to give me a loan. I got so desperate I went to Felicity.”

Oliver scowled. “Why the hell would you go to Felicity? There’s no way she’d have that kind of money.”

“Why wouldn’t I go to her? She’s pretty much the Queen family fixer, personal and professional. She saved Thea. She’s the one that got Moira to sign off on Verdant in the first place. I had a plan.”

Oliver frowned. Saved Thea? What did that mean? And what kind of plan could Tommy have had that involved getting half a million dollars? An answer slid into place. 

“You son of a…” Oliver pressed his mouth together in a thin, grim line. “Her investors’ seed money. I take it back. I’m not sorry I hit you and you have thirty seconds to explain before I do a lot more than just take back my apology.” 

“Whoa! Geez, I’m sorry. I told you, I was desperate.”

“So desperate you were willing to steal her dream to save yours. Not good enough.” Oliver balled his fists and started around the bar. 

Tommy threw his hands up in the air and backed away. “Wait, wait! You’re right. I was an ass for even suggesting it. She refused me flat out anyway but came up with a plan of her own.”

“Which was?”

“To go to you.”

Oliver jerked back his head. “Her plan was for you to ask me for the money?”

“No, no. To get your help maybe with financing and looking over the deal. She brought up all the real estate transactions your company oversaw and that you’d handled the financing for a lot of your bigger clients. Oliver. Man. I would never ask you for money, even if that had been her plan. I wouldn’t do that to you. We were like family for too long. I can’t be that person.”

“But you were willing to do it to Felicity.” 

Tommy flinched, but didn’t try to defend himself. Not trying to further justify his actions probably was what saved him. Oliver relaxed his stance. “Why didn’t you come to me? She’s right; I might be able to help.”

“Honestly? I think I was afraid I _would_ ask for more than advice. I put her off and said I had a few more leads and when those fell through, I did what I should have done instead of going to Felicity. Sold the Jag. Agreed to sell the condo a third under market value to get a quick sale.”

Oliver knew the market where Tommy had his condo. It was only a one bedroom but the building was high end and the neighborhood ideal. He should have been able to get the cash he needed.

“What happened? The buyer pull out?”

“God, I wish they had. At least then I’d have a shot at finding someone else but nope, the buyer is gung ho; it’s the bank that’s dragging its heels. I spent the last week trying to make it happen sooner and I can’t budge them.”

“Are you sure that…”

Tommy interrupted him. “Oh I’m sure. Then I even tried to get a loan based on the pending sale but God, I’d have to be a hell of a lot drunker than I am to risk getting in bed with a loan shark. They’re the only ones left.” 

“I’m left.”

“I was serious. I won’t take your money.”

“What about my advice? Though I can’t promise anything.”

“That I’ll take.” A classic Tommy grin appeared. “I told you I was desperate.”

And just like that, it felt like he had his best friend back for real this time. During dinner at the mansion, he and Tommy had both pretended nothing had happened, but that wasn’t how real friends behaved. Friendship wasn’t always easy. Nothing worth anything ever was. 

Oliver took a sip of his beer and asked the question his gut told him he needed to ask no matter how much he wanted to avoid it. 

“Before, what did you mean that Felicity saved Thea?”

“From jail technically but maybe from a lot more. Didn’t Felicity tell you?”

“I haven’t really wanted to talk about Thea.” Jail? Thea?

Tommy paled. “Then you don’t know any of it, do you?” He looked horrified.

“It’s better if I don’t get too involved in Thea’s life.” The words came out automatically. Some things hadn’t changed.

“I thought you were done being a selfish asshole.”

“You said it yourself; Thea has you if she needs a big brother. She’s doing fine without me butting in.”

“Does any part of you actually believe that? I mean, what do you call storming down here and yelling at me for giving her a job?”

Oliver blinked. He had him there. He scowled, feeling cornered.

“What I want to know is if you already thought you were closing, why did you bother hiring Thea?”

“Why? How is it you haven’t figured this part out? After her real big brother treated her like crap and made her feel worthless, I hired her to show some faith in her abilities. I’m not taking any chances after the second time even if they say both were accidents.”

“What are you talking about? Second time at what?”

“You really don’t have a clue, do you?” A mixture of pity and judgement ran over Tommy’s face. Oliver went still, but his heart started to pound. Something was very wrong. He could feel it.

“Tommy,” he said his friend’s name menacingly, “a second time at what?”

“Overdosing. Which is why I’m not going to sit around and do nothing at the risk of Thea dying a third time.” 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: I found this chapter very satisfying. I hope you do as well.

**Chapter 15**

On Friday morning, Felicity peeked out her front door and watched with mixed feelings as Oliver drove away. She hadn’t spoken to him since yesterday after the conference call when he dropped her back at the townhomes. She’d stayed at home while he left again just minutes later, returning early in the evening. And then as far as she could tell, he’d stayed in the rest of the night, only taking off again now. Not that she was spying on him or anything. 

She could have spied if she’d wanted to. Pinging his phone would be incredibly simple and with a little extra effort, she could enable his microphone and listen in. So paying very close attention to his comings and goings was practically nothing. Not that she was obsessed with knowing what he was up to or anything. No, she was just at a sensible level of curious like anyone else in the situation would be. 

Oliver had been strangely evasive about his plans on Thursday. Really, he’d been off that whole morning. And “off” was too vague a term. An old school grouch, that’s what he’d been, to the point of making Oscar from Sesame Street seem positively delightful. She’d never heard Oliver so negative before about her company. With the way he’d been going, if Thea hadn’t interrupted to steal his coffee, he’d have ended up wearing it. 

At least he unbent to at least try to be there for Thea’s opening night. Felicity wasn’t exactly certain what she was supporting, but it had been important to Thea, so she would be there. Oliver’s promise was the only encouraging thing in an otherwise increasingly frustrating situation. 

Felicity regretted promising Thea she could be the one to tell Oliver her past. Almost two weeks had gone by and still Thea hadn’t said a word. With Oliver trying hard to ignore his sister—something Thea couldn’t abide even in strangers—instead of the communicating, her visits veered off into theater, Thea saying outrageous things that Oliver couldn’t ignore and then leaving. Maybe that was her plan. To wear him down to his new reality. 

She’d give Thea through the weekend to tell him; after that, she was butting in. 

Yesterday she’d come home and changed out of her barely worn knit outfit into sweats and then she’d spent the day catching up on her coding. In the evening, Curtis came over and they brainstormed—unsuccessfully—together. It had been too short notice for him to also take Friday off, so today, Felicity was using her day off on laundry and the other household chores she’d let pile up.

At noon, she started going through the mishmash of take-out containers in her fridge. Felicity was just deciding between reheating some beef chow fun or cold pizza when her phone rang. The caller id said Queen Consolidated so she assumed it was Curtis checking in on one of the programing changes they’d talked about or possibly Priya again with a question about Moira’s schedule. It was the later, though not with a question about her schedule but a contribution to it. Moira was “requesting” her to join her for lunch at The Library in half an hour.

Felicity knew a command engagement when she heard one. After a mad dash through the shower, she tossed on yesterday’s sage green, knit, top/skirt combo and drove downtown. Five minutes late, she pushed open the door to The Library to the sound of a tinkling bell. The warm aroma of fresh bread and other savory options hit her when she entered.

The Library, a Literary Café, was not home to Starling City’s repository of books but a charmingly eclectic amalgamation of a used book store and a locally sourced, market to table, bistro. The ever changing menu was eclectic and fluctuating, taken from and inspired by all walks of literature. 

Moira was seated on the café side of the establishment. Her table was far enough away from the from the windows so as not to be gawked at through the wide panes of glass, but near enough to soak up the rare sunshine Starling City was gifting its citizens that fine day. 

With her flawlessly styled hair and extremely tasteful, charcoal grey, business suit, Moira Queen looked mildly out of place in the bohemian setting even with an open book in front of her. In the past two years, Felicity had personally handled most of Moira’s lunch reservations and while The Library had been trendy for just as long, she’d never known Queen Consolidated’s CEO to dine there.

“Moira?” Felicity called her name tentatively, fidgeting with the strap of her purse. 

Moira gracefully closed Anna Karenina using a thin brass strip to mark her page. It was several steps above the quickly torn scraps of notebook paper Felicity had favored before she could carry her entire library around on a tablet. She admired Moira’s natural tendency towards elegance but doubted she’d ever give up her own slightly more messy habits. Moira Queen was a modern woman when it came to her business and ideals, but carried a personal air of formality around her that was probably more in keeping with Tolstoy’s nineteenth century novel. 

Moira rose and greeted her with an air kiss on the cheek. Felicity tensed. 

“Please, sit.”

Felicity sat cautiously. So they were still doing air kisses. Usually Moira saved the old money air buss for formal situations, potential donors and enemies she was keeping close. Felicity was willing to guess Moira had yet to fully make peace with Oliver’s choice of living arrangements. 

“Would you like to order a drink?” Moira asked. “They are, what do you call them? Mocktails? No alcohol, but pleasant in their own way.”

Felicity nodded but wished the quaint café had landed a liquor license. 

Without waving or making any overt movement, Moira caught the eye of the waitress. She briskly joined them.

“What can I get you to drink?”

Above the bakery counter, a blackboard covering the whole upper half of the wall listed all the menu options. After making note of Lemony Snicket’s Lemon Raspberry Muffins to bring home later, Felicity ordered Anne Shirley’s Raspberry Cordial Lemonade (Though Rosemary’s Baby Blush had been a strong contender.)

“Interesting place. Have you been here before?” Felicity asked when the waitress left.

“No, but Jerry was raving over the café’s bouillabaisse. And somthing called butter beer, foul as it sounds. Unfortunately in speaking with the manager, I’ve been informed both are unavailable this week.” Moira frowned. 

"Butter beer is from Harry Potter. I think as in butterscotch?” At least that was how she’d always imagined it from the books. And if her memory from years ago held, the bouillabaisse might have been from the Harry Potter books as well. Who knew Jerry-the-floater was an uncloseted Potterhead? “Would you prefer going somewhere else?”

“That’s not necessary. I’ve been assured the clam chowder is equally worth my time.”

Moira’s tight smile loudly conveyed the unspoken “we shall see.” Felicity glanced at the chalkboard menu and hoped The Library’s chowder met the expectations built up in Moby Dick. 

“How is Jerry working out?” She asked, changing the subject.

“I need two of him, plus Priya, to come close to replacing you.”

“That’s very kind of you to say. If Jerry isn’t working out, I could speak to human resources and ask for a different candidate.”

“It’s not flattery. Just fact. Priya and Jerry are highly qualified assistants and I value their contributions. But they will always think like assistants; they lack the instinct to lead, though with further grooming, Priya would be a very effective manager.”

Moira paused and sipped her mocktail, what could have only been Hemmingway’s Mint Julep, and then continued with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Priya, Jerry, and I am sure whoever HR sends as a third, will follow my directions to the exacting letter. They will be diligent and expansive in their tasks, but they will never surprise me with what I didn’t know I wanted or needed. Once your work with my son is through, I look forward to watching you grow your new venture. I only regret we couldn’t convince you to keep it in house.

“Thank you.” Moira’s praise, obscurely parsed as it was, meant a great deal to her. She started to relax. Maybe Moira simply invited her to lunch as a friendly gesture, hopefully a transition for them from employee that occasionally was treated like family, to simply friend of the family. 

“Now on to why you are here,” Moira began, all warmth suddenly gone. Felicity felt her stomach drop. “I expect you to handle this situation with Thea. Working at a nightclub is the last place she should be no matter the circumstances.”

Before she was forced to reply, the waitress returned with her drink, and smiling, placed the deeply red refreshment on the table.

“Are you ready to order?”

“Yes, I’ll have the clam chowder,” Moira briskly answered and then looked to Felicity for her choice as if she could still have any kind of an appetite. 

She floundered for a moment, looking to the menu on the wall once again, reading the items but not really comprehending them. She’d read the list three times before the waitress asked if she needed more time. At Moira’s impatient frown, she randomly picked the strawberry, apple chicken salad served in a pesto wrap. The waitress promised to be back soon with their meals. 

As if there had been no interruption, Moira folded her hands over the book she’d been reading and waited for Felicity to speak. She found her voice.

“What makes you think I will or even can make Thea change her mind? She seemed very excited about Saturday.”

“Yes, well, before your arrangement with Oliver, she was very excited about taking on the design elements of the Foundation’s Initiative.”

“I told you, I had nothing to do with the change in plans.”

“And yet, here we are. Nearly two weeks since my son has returned and the only one he spends his time with is you.”

“We’ve been working. Getting the Memorial Initiative running has been very time consuming.”

“So I’ve been told by Oliver as he declined every overture I’ve made. Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. Even a short break for coffee. Always busy. Always working. Though not even working at QC. First a meager dwelling in a neighborhood teetering on decay…”

“My real estate agent said my neighborhood is in positive transition.”

“…and now an ancient trailer in the street?”

“On-site. Oliver’s position requires him to be close at hand for decisions.”

“Don’t change the subject. What are you going to do to stop Thea?”

“What can I do? She’s almost 21. She’s an adult. Look, I understand your concerns, but this isn’t like the past. She’s not spending all her time with false friends only there for her money and connections. She’s not alone and isolated like she was at California State. And to make sure she knows it, I’m going to be there to support her on her first night.”

“She doesn’t want me there.”

Picturing the reserved Moira Queen clubbing at Verdant forced Felicity to bit her lip to hide her smile. 

“I don’t think you should take that too personal. Under any other circumstances would you want to be there?”

“That’s not the point. Thea is vulnerable right now and it’s your job to protect her.”

The waitress returned at that point. Under other circumstances, the service would have been commendable.

“Here you go.” In front of Moira, the waitress slid a still steaming bowl of creamy chowder generously packed with potato chunks and meaty pieces of clam. A flaky buttermilk biscuit accompanied it rather than the traditional oyster crackers. Queequeg would have approved.

Felicity looked at her wrap and felt her face heat a little bit. She should have paid more attention to the source of its inspiration. She glanced at the menu again. “The Very Hungry Caterpillar.” How had she missed that? The green pesto wrap was cut into five, small segments placed in a curved S pattern with a round cherry tomato for a head, complete with peas for eyes, a peppercorn nose, and slivers of purple carrots used for the antennae and legs. She would have appreciated the whimsy more during a less tense conversation. As it was, she felt like she’d ordered off the kiddie menu. 

“Is there anything else I can get you?” 

Tight lipped, Felicity shook her head.

“Enjoy your meal.”

Moira tasted her chowder. Approval showed on her fac. Apparently nothing said had spoiled _her_ appetite. 

Felicity jumped back into the conversation where they’d left off. 

“Protecting Thea was never my job description.”

“It was implied.”

Felicity held back her frustrations. 

“And the implication nearly destroyed my friendship with Thea. Look, the doctors this last time said she showed no signs of withdrawal or physical addiction, right? Thea swore she cleaned up after high school and what happened at college was a one off mistake. You can’t watch her 24/7.”

Moira put her spoon down. “I lost Robert. I lost Oliver. I can’t lose Thea. I don’t know what to do.”

Sometimes it was easy to forget how much loss Moira had suffered in her life. Felicity didn’t know what happened to Moira’s parents or in laws, but there was no extended family. Her children were all she had. 

“You are not going to lose Thea and Oliver isn’t a lost cause.” Felicity covered Moira’s hand with her own. “Look, I don’t know if I can change Thea’s mind, but I’ll talk to her about why she wants the job. Make sure where her head is at.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that. I don’t want to take more desperate steps.”

More desperate steps? That didn’t sound ominous at all. She sought to discourage Moira from whatever that meant. 

“In the end, it’s Thea’s decision. If you try to force her, she’s only going to pull away and leave herself even more isolated.” 

Moira made a non-committal sound, but her demeanor lightened. “While you are at it, would you try talking to my son? He’s still not confirmed if either of you are even going to be at tonight’s gala.”

Felicity won the fight against rolling her eyes. She’d called in the RSVP’s herself the day after Oliver accepted the job. She’d seen the table assignments printed with their names. Moira well knew they were coming even if Oliver wasn’t returning her calls. She reassured her anyway. 

“We’ll both be there. You can count on it.”

The rest of lunch was surprisingly nice. Moira stopped treating her like she was an inept employee and suddenly her appetite returned, which was great since the tangy sweet strawberries and tart chunks of Granny Smith apples paired wonderfully with the creamy dressing of the chicken salad. After lunch, they said their goodbyes and Felicity wandered over to the other side of the café to peruse the book racks. A half hour later, Thea arrived. 

“Ok, you called. I came. What’s the emergency? But first, where are my muffins?”

“Right this way.” 

They ordered coffee and a pair of the raspberry muffins to go and then decided to do a bit of window shopping while Thea picked off tender bites of deliciousness. Felicity tucked her treasure in her bag for a treat later. Thea appraised her.

“You look so serious. I take it my mother got to you?”

“We met for lunch.”

“And you took her to The Library Café? I love the place, but I can’t imagine dragging my mother there.”

“Actually, it was her choice.”

“Huh. Tell me she liked it. I could tolerate many more brunches if I knew I could occasionally bring her someplace I want to go.”

“She liked her food and bought a book. Less crazy about the fluctuating menu.”

“I can work with that.” Thea popped another bit of muffin in her mouth. “So, what did the snow queen want exactly? I’m guessing I can guess, so you might as well save your breath. I’m keeping the job.”

“I told her I wouldn’t try to make you quit.”

“Okay. Then why am I here?”

“Your mom is worried about you. She’s confused about the direction you’re going in. I’m a little confused too. Last year before you went away to college, you were passionate about the Queen Foundation. You had a million ideas you wanted to help see accomplished. This year…”

“I’m still involved. I told you I can do both. Neither are exactly a full time thing.”

“I guess that’s my point. Your work for the Foundation used to be a full time thing.”

“I was sort of court ordered into it being a full time thing, if you remember. And you should since mom plucked you out of your comfort zone and assigned you to handle it all, right?” Thea laughed. “No good deed goes unpunished.”

“You’re right; I wasn’t exactly thrilled to go from IT to—”

“You hated your boss.”

“Moot point, he quit out of the blue like that same week.”

“Which is, I suppose, why they needed you so often back in IT.”

“That and my area of expertise actually includes IT.”

“Even if you are over qualified like a million times.”

“Even if. But to go from that to—”

“Babysitting?”

“No, I was going to say setting up a charitable foundation. Completely out of my purview, by the way.”

Queen Consolidated had always done charitable giving, the tax benefits alone guaranteed most big corporations did, but it had been only after Thea’s situation that the independently run Queen Foundation properly came into existence. 

“You figured it out quickly enough. For some reason Mom wasn’t satisfied that the deal you arranged with the DA kept me out of jail. No daughter of hers was going to be picking up trash on the side of the road like just any common criminal.”

“The judge shouldn’t have gone after you like that. He was unfairly trying to make an example out of you. You’d turned 18 that day. First time possession of a designer drug not even on the books and driving 100 yards under the influence, and you were being threatened with 5 years in jail? It wasn’t right.”

“Mom’s lawyers said the judge could have pushed for 10, so I for one was thrilled with that voodoo you traded to reduce it down to just oodles of community service.”

“It wasn’t voodoo. I had a spectral analysis run on the drug and then was able to use some of the trace chemical components to triangulate where the drug was being manufactured in the city and gave that to your family to offer the police in exchange for them lobbying the DA and the judge for leniency.”

“Like I said, voodoo.”

“Whatever the reason you started working for the Foundation, once you were working there, you thrived.”

Thea didn’t deny it. “I liked having a purpose.” 

“And now? Do you think working at Verdant will give you purpose?”

“It’s not about that. I mean, I don’t know. I guess it’s good because Tommy needs help and this I can actually do.”

“What about the Foundation? Not too long ago, whenever there was a story on the news about the Foundation, your picture popped up too. You were at ever event. You were the Foundation.”

“Hello, I left for college last fall.”

“But you’ve been home for months and the only project you’ve shown any interest in was the one working with Oliver. And I get why, but what about the rest? What’s changed? Because I don’t believe you were only doing it before because you had to.”

Thea stopped and seemed to stare through the window at a pair of exquisitely tooled leather boots. Felicity realized quickly she wasn’t seeing past her reflection. 

“Can’t you see? Everything’s changed. I can’t be that poster girl anymore.” 

“But why?”

Thea turned toward Felicity but pointed to her reflection. “Because that…that is a lie. That girl was supposed to have her shit together.” She looked upward, shaking her head. “It started as some PR spin, but I let them do it. I let my mom do it because…because I started believing I could be that girl. You know? It was so simple at first. I’d show up to stock food shelves or work on the waterfront clean-up”

Thea’s face looked wistful but pained. “And everyone smiled and thanked me. They were thrilled I was there to do more than just hand over an oversized check, well let’s be real, they wanted the check more, but I let people act like I was doing something special whenever I did more than just show up. I started to believe I was making a difference.”

“You were.”

“No, it was the Foundation. Anyone could have done what I did.”

“Not everyone would have cared like you did. People responded not because you showed up, but because you cared when you did.” 

Thea started moving again, shuffling with her booted foot down the sidewalk. She shook her head again, mindlessly picking at her muffin still. “Yeah, well now I feel like a complete fraud. The whole foundation was made just to hide the fact that I had court mandated community service. And then the moment I tried to go off and have a normal life, I fucked up. I just wanted to go to a party like every other kid at college. I swear, I hadn’t touched anything since the Vertigo when I turned 18. But I was at this party trying to pretend I wanted to be there and the walls were closing in and nothing felt real. She said it was just Percocet to drown the anxiety.”

Only it hadn’t been. Thea OD’d at the party, but she was the lucky one. Two other people went back to their dorms to lie down and never woke up. Moira managed to keep Thea’s name out of the news that time as well. 

“Thea, a mistake, even a big mistake, doesn’t mean you are a fraud. You wanting to help was real. I was there. I saw it.”

“And I’m not totally walking away, but Oliver’s back now. Let him be the face of the Foundation for a while.” Before Felicity could form a protest, Thea waved the hand not holding her muffin and paused at the corner. “No, seriously. You know as well as I do, it’s the story everyone wants anyway. Prodigal son makes good, comes home to honor his father and save his city.”

Thea trashed the rest of her muffin and wiped her hands of the crumbs. “And Dad would be bursting with pride over Oliver.” Her mouth twisted ruefully to the side, something that frequently happened when she mentioned her father. “I miss him so much, but part of me is glad he’s not here to see what a mess I am.”

“Thea, your father had great faith in you.”

“Felicity, I love you, but you didn’t even know my dad. We were never this perfect family. Right now, working on Dad’s memorial initiative, I feel like a hypocrite. How can I honor him? I’m an embarrassment that should be hidden away. He’d have wanted it this way.”

“That’s not true. He loved you, but more than that, he knew how strong you were going to be.”

“I am not strong.”

“You are. You could have taken the easy way out and used the Queen Foundation as the front maybe your mother intended it to be, but you wanted it to be more, to do more. Your voice steered it toward what projects it needed to tackle. And now the Foundation is being used to spearhead a massive new program on the verge of helping the whole city. Your father knew how valuable your contributions would be.”

“Why do you keep talking like you know him?” Thea asked, perplexed. A thought flitted across her face and suddenly timid, she looked down and asked, “Has Ollie been talking about me and my dad?”

Felicity reluctantly shook her head. “No, not really.”

Thea’s face fell. 

“Then please stop pretending to know what my father thought about me!” Upset, Thea turned to awkwardly stomp away. She was already half a block away before Felicity came to a decision and ran after her. 

“Thea wait, there’s something I need to show you.”

***

Oliver was about to knock on Felicity’s front door when he heard raised voices coming from inside. Tommy glanced at him.

“That sounds like Thea.”

The voices became more clear as they came closer to the door. 

“Then show me the other one.”

“I told you, it’s not my place to decide that,” replied Felicity. “It belongs to Oliver.”

“Oh, but it was your place to hide what belonged to me?” 

Before Oliver could piece together what the argument was about, Thea yanked the front door open and barreled into him. He caught her about the arms to steady her. She looked surprised to see him but the confusion was quickly replaced by calculation. She narrowed her eyes. 

“Good you’re here. Do you think you can stand to be in the same room with me long enough tell Felicity to show me your message?” 

“What message?”

At his blank look, she rolled her eyes.

“What message? How about the last one from our father, ever?”

Oliver’s eyes darted to Felicity. She stood inside the door, frowning nervously.

“You showed her the videos?”

She quickly shook her head.

“Hers.”

Between them, Thea swiveled back and forth, looking incredulous. 

“But you’ve seen both, OMG, I felt like I was going crazy thinking you two were holed up together hiding something from me, but I’m not crazy. You are.”

From behind him, Tommy asked, “What messages?”

Thea focused in on him.

“Oh, nothing much, just the final words my father secretly put on camera before he went on his trip to China and died. Or did you already know about them too? I can’t believe my mother kept this from me.”

Tommy lifted his hands, palms forward. “I don’t know about any messages.”

“Your mom doesn’t know about the messages,” Felicity said at the same time.

Thea whirled back around, hands clenched by her thighs.

“You’re kidding me. Seriously? You didn’t tell her? I thought you were Mom’s most faithful hound?” 

“They weren’t for her.”

“Well they sure as hell weren’t for you.” Thea’s face crumpled. “I trusted you. I can’t believe you’d keep this from me. I could have really used this this year.”

Felicity flinched and her eyes darted to Oliver’s. Thea tracked her eye movements.

“Oh wait, that’s right. Brother dear, doesn’t know about that. Sucks to be out of the loop doesn’t it, Oliver. Maybe if you ask nicely, I’ll tell you.”

Oliver reached for her hand.

“Thea, I know.”

Something vulnerable and afraid slipped over Thea’s face before she once again whirled around to yell at Felicity.

“You promised you’d let me tell him!”

He tugged on Thea’s hand. 

“Hey, Felicity didn’t break her promise. She didn’t tell me.”

Tommy jumped in. “I told him, Thea. He needed to know.”

Thea’s head jumped back between Oliver and Tommy. Once again, he saw vulnerability written all over her face. She twisted her mouth to the side to stop her lower lip from quivering. Then, she straightened her spine, pushed past them both, and started to stalk off the best anyone could while their foot was still encased in a walking cast the size of a ski boot. 

“Thea, where are you going?” Felicity called out.

“Home.”

“You don’t have a car.” 

Thea ignored Felicity and kept walking. Felicity was ready to go after, but Tommy shook his head.

“No, stay. She’s probably least mad at me. I’ll bring her back.”

Felicity sighed, but didn’t argue as Tommy loped off after Thea. It didn’t take him long to catch up to her. 

“Think Tommy can convince her?” Oliver asked.

“Maybe. Fifty-fifty.” She glanced at him and frowned. “I thought you had business to take care of?”

“Tommy was my business.” 

“That’s who you were going to see? Why?”

“To talk about Thea, but he had a lot of other interesting things to say.” 

Felicity cocked her head, studying him.

“He talked to you about his club? 

“Among other things.”

She glanced back down the road where Tommy and Thea were talking on the sidewalk. Thea had her arms mutinously crossed over her chest but at least she was no longer trying to walk all the way back to the mansion. Tommy glanced back, saw that they were watching and made a gesture with his head to go inside. Felicity stepped back, beckoned Oliver in, and closed the door. 

“What were you guys doing on my doorstep anyway?”

“I made some calls this afternoon trying to get Tommy the money he needs to save Verdant. With the club’s finances and Tommy’s connections, it shouldn’t have been hard, but no one would touch him.”

“You think your mom is interfering?”

“I’m not sure. Someone has called in favors blocking his loan options. So I tried to look at Tommy’s partnership deal, see what I could learn from that, but my contacts could give me virtually nothing on the LLC. Thought you might do a better job.”

“Me? I don’t know anyone in real estate. Well, there was the agent I bought my townhome from, but I’m not sure I’d trust her judgement.” 

“I thought you could check some records” He interrupted before she could object again. “Anything you don’t know, I have complete confidence you can find out.”

“Fine. What’s the official name of the LLC? I could use the distraction right about now.”

“WP Exchange”

Felicity sat on the couch and opened her laptop. As she started typing, she glanced back at him. 

“So Tommy told you about Thea.”

“I should have let you tell me right away.” He came and sat kitty corner from her, leaning on the arm of one of the living room chairs. She met his eyes over her screen but didn’t say I told you so. He wasn’t feeling as merciful. “You told me I was making a mistake. I told myself staying out of Thea’s life was the selfless choice, but knowing how close I came to losing her…twice.” He choked on the thought. 

Felicity set aside the computer, leaned forward and took his hands.

“But you didn’t lose her. Talk to her. There’s still time.”

.He nodded. “I want to. At this point, she might not let me in.” The thought of having left it too late was crippling. Felicity squeezed his hands again. 

“She will. She’s been waiting more than 8 years for you to come home; she’s not going to give up now. Besides, right now I’m the one she’s mad at.” Felicity let go of his hands and sunk back into her couch. Oliver considered her.

“Why didn’t you show Dad’s message to Thea before?”

She shrugged.

“Part of it was timing. If Thea had been in town when I found it, I don’t know if I’d have kept it from her, but when she overdosed, I wasn’t sure how it would affect her. And then, the more I thought about it, the more dangerous it seemed for her to know.”

“Dad’s message to Thea was pretty tame.”

“These were the last messages from your father right before he boarded a sabotaged boat. If he’d left one for Thea, people were going to wonder what other messages he might have left.”

“By people you mean…”

“I’m not changing my mind about anything, but… I’ll admit it was odd he didn’t leave one for your mom and I couldn’t see showing Thea the message and her keeping it from Moira, at least back then.”

“So you do have your doubts.”

“There are a hundred reasons why your father might not have left one for your mom. But if anyone found out about Thea’s message, they might assume there were more. Your dad was very cryptic in his message to you, but he could have gotten right down to the specifics rather than just direct you to a book that named names without spelling anything out. If any rumors got out, proving other messages _didn’t_ exist would have been impossible and then who knows what people desperate to keep their secrets might have done. I didn’t want to expose Thea to that kind of risk.” 

“So why show Thea now?”

Felicity tucked her feet to the side of her on the couch and wrapped her arms around a multi-color throw pillow; the streaks of turquoise in the pillow matched the living room walls. A far off look came into her eyes.

“I keep seeing her like she was when I first met her. Back then, while I was looking into things for Walter, I was also doing an on the books project to provide an explanation for _why_ I was constantly running up to his office, one that didn’t involve people gossiping about me rebooting his system, if you know what I mean.”

“Was there a lot of that kind of gossip about Walter?

“Enough, but it was just gossip. I think people were in the habit of that kind of speculation since the previous CEO apparently had more than one affair…oh god, the previous guy was your dad. I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head, dismissing her apology, despite the lead weight that landed in his stomach.

“I walked in on enough of my parent’s arguments to suspect there’d been infidelities on both sides.” Though he’d thought they were all back when Thea was little. He closed his eyes briefly, not sure what to do with the hurt, resentment and anger hitting him. His father was gone which meant only his mom could be held accountable. It was painfully clear he wasn’t exactly an impartial judge. 

Oliver shook his head again, this time to clear out troubling thoughts. “I’m sorry, what were you saying about Thea?”

“Just that I was there the night she OD’d the first time. Walter left the office early because of Thea’s 18th birthday party. He needed me to bring him the viability report on possibly combining the application of wireless energy transfer technology with our Wi-Fi routers. FYI, we’re still years out from that…I mean, I could modify the routers, but devices haven’t caught up enough to make it worthwhile.”

He smiled like he had a clue what she was talking about and said, “Of course.”

“Anyway, I stopped by the mansion to talk him through the report and the party was in full swing.” Felicity smiled, remembering. “Thea was holding court, drawing people to her with her energy, humor and that spark of teenage rebellion. She seemed so alive and carefree. 

“Twenty minutes later, I was headed to my car, when she stormed outside with your mom and Walter and it seemed like half the guests, trailing after. I don’t know what the fight was about, but Thea drove off fast in her new convertible. There was still a red bow tied around the front seat. I was already at my car when we all heard it. God, it was so loud.”

“She crashed?”

“Passed out and ran right into a tree not even a block past the front gates. I ended up on the scene because I was ready with my car. Walter and Moira squeezed in, calling 911 on the way. When we got to Thea, the car looked totaled and she was slumped over her wheel, frighteningly pale with a line of blood trickling down her temple. That vibrant birthday girl might as well have been a different person. Thea looked fragile and so young.”

“How badly was she hurt?”

“Her injuries from hitting the tree were minimal, the airbag did the trick, just some bruises, nicks and abrasions, but if the SCPD patrol car that first arrived hadn’t had Narcan with them to counteract the Vertigo, she wouldn’t have made it to the ambulance.” 

Oliver went cold at the thought. He was glad he was sitting down. Tommy had told him, but left out the details. “She was lucky they knew to give her it.” In an accident, it would have been very easy to assume she’d passed out because of hitting her head. He’d come so close to losing Thea forever.

“Her purse spilled on impact. There were some pills I might have pocketed before any official arrived, but when she was unresponsive, they had to be told. In the end, the tox screen at the hospital was all the DA’s office needed to prosecute her.”

“Tommy told me you kept her out of jail. I wasn’t here to say it then, but thank you.”

“I was glad there was something I could do. But I’ve kept that image of Thea, fragile and broken, in the back of my head the whole time even though I was right there watching when she stopped being that lost girl. So when she had the other overdose during Spring Break, fair or unfair, I thought keeping the video from her was protecting her.”

Felicity shook her head. “But she’s not fragile or a child anymore. The second overdose scared the crap out of all of us, but the toxicology reports support what Thea told us. She wasn’t back to her old habits or trying to hurt herself. Sheltering her for too long was a mistake. Once she was better, she deserved to know.” Felicity set aside the pillow she’d been holding and adjusted how her glasses sat on her nose. “I think she deserves to know about your message as well. Actually, I’m wondering if she should be told everything I’ve told you.”

The front door opened before he could reply. Thea walked in and, without a word, went right to the bathroom down the hallway and shut the door. A moment later, Tommy came in. He pointed down the hall.

“Thea in there?”

Felicity nodded. “How is she?”

“Pissed. And I’m not sure I blame her. She told me about the video. And there’s another one you’re still keeping from her?”

Oliver glanced at Felicity, not sure whether to confirm or deny it. It was one thing to consider bringing Thea in on the truth, but there was no happy conclusion for Tommy. It was something Oliver had been trying not to think about. If Felicity was right, Tommy’s dad was the mastermind behind so many deaths including his and Thea’s father, a man Tommy had thought of more as a father figure than his own. Tommy had never gotten along with his dad, but he was still his dad.

“Seriously?” Tommy asked, incredulous. “If you two are going to stonewall me, at least work on your poker face. You are terrible liars. What don’t you want me or Thea to see on that video?”

Felicity sighed. “It’s complicated.”

Her answer almost made Oliver smile. It was nice not to be on the other side of that excuse this time. 

“He’s my father. What’s complicated about that?”

Everyone’s head turned toward Thea’s voice. Oliver stood and Felicity followed his example. Thea walked the rest of the way down the hallway but kept the couch between them as a barrier.

“How can you justify,” she started to ask, her voice rising with each word, “keeping me from the last words I’ll ever hear from my father?” she shouted. “I am sick of being kept in the dark. I am sick of being lied to and manipulated. I am an adult. Whatever is in Dad’s message, I have a right to know. Stop treating me like a child!”

“Then stop acting like one,” Oliver said softly.

“Excuse me?” Thea slowly crossed her arms in front of her chest. Fury seethed from her eyes. Felicity and Tommy looked at him shocked. 

“You heard me.” He remained calm, not raising his voice. He walked around the end of the sofa toward Thea, but still giving her space. “Taking all your frustrations out on Felicity. Storming off. You want to be treated like an adult, then stop throwing tantrums and running away.”

“I am not…” Thea sputtered. “You’re the expert on running away,” she shot back. 

“Then you can trust I know what I’m talking about.” He watched her rage change over to wary defensiveness. She was still upset but calmer. “You’re right. There are things being kept from you, but not to hurt you, to protect you.” 

He watched his words spark new anger in Thea’s eyes.

“Is that what you call pushing me away? Trying to ignore me? Just what, big brother,” she asked, sarcasm dripping from every word, “are _you_ supposedly trying to protect me from?”

Oliver answered from the heart.

“From me.”

“What?” Thea frowned, confused. Her arms came uncrossed and fell to her sides. 

“Oliver,” Felicity said his name sadly, shaking her head. Tommy put his head down and pushed his hands into his pockets. 

“I wasn’t much of a big brother. I didn’t do a very good job setting an example for you growing up. Too often, I put what I wanted ahead of everyone around me without a thought to who I hurt. I was selfish, reckless, careless, without purpose, and planned on staying that way. Thea, the best gift I could give you was staying out of your life.”

“Ollie.”

Oliver shook his head, “I never planned on coming back to Starling City, but when I did, I thought the only way to keep from messing up your life was to keep staying out of it as best I could.”

Thea took a few steps his direction, her head cocked to the side, searching his face for answers.

“What are you, a drug dealer or something?”

“No,” he scowled.

“A criminal mastermind? You run a gambling ring on the side that cons little old ladies out of their last pennies or maybe you lead a team of assassins?” She took another couple steps.

“Speedy.” He said her name as a warning.

“Is it worse than that? Do you now in your spare time go around kicking puppies or waving your junk at unsuspecting women?” 

He glowered at her, refusing to answer her absurd questions.

“Ollie, you were a complete ass about some things in your life, but you weren’t _just_ an asshole. You were also kind and funny, and never in a mean way. You read me all the Harry Potter books and let me tag along with you and Tommy. You listened to me. You made me feel special. Important. And it wasn’t just me. Mom and Dad could be such snobs, but you treated the people who worked for us like real people. You took the time to get to know them and they loved you for it. You cared. Or did all that go away when you did?”

“Thea, I’ll always love you.”

“I love you too, even when you are being the stupidest brother on the planet. Trust me; I know when you are being an ass and pushing me away now is you being an ass. So could you please just stop?”

He felt something loosen in his chest. 

“Yeah, I think I can do that.” He took the final step toward Thea, leaned down and enfolded her into a hug. She wrapped her arms around his middle and hugged him tightly back. It was the hug they should have had when he first came home. Tears pricked his eyes and when his heart told him to hold on to his baby sister a little bit longer, he did.

*** 

Felicity used her knuckle to wipe her eyes. Watching Oliver finally reconnect with Thea was everything she’d hoped for both of them. Across the room, Tommy was looking down and smiling, happy over the reconciliation as well. She smiled in his direction. It was wonderful that Oliver and Tommy also seemed to have rekindled their friendship today. 

After a minute, Thea pulled back from Oliver's embrace.

“Now that that’s taken care of, let me see Dad’s video.”

“Speedy, Felicity’s right. It’s not so simple.”

“Did Dad make you a video? Do you have it?” At Oliver’s lack of denial, Thea pressed on. “Then it is simple.”

“Thea,” Felicity said speaking up, “Oliver was being serious when he said we were trying to protect you. He didn’t mean just emotionally. I shouldn’t have even showed you the video your father made for you without swearing you to secrecy.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No. Outside of this room, there is only one other person that even vaguely knows about those messages and we need to keep it that way.” 

“She’s right, Thea.”

“You’re kind of scaring me.”

Tommy raised his hand.

“Yeah, I’m with Thea. You two are acting really weird.”

“Just promise me neither of you will discuss even the existence of the videos with anyone else.”

“That’s fine by me,” Tommy was quick to answer.

“Sure, whatever. Now can I see Dad's other video?”


	16. Chapter 16

On the top floor of the Queen Consolidated building, the formal ballroom was packed with round tables draped in flowing white cloths and topped with glittering place settings circled around artistically shaped, leafy centerpieces. When dinner was served, the room would be filled to capacity, but for now, most guests lingered in one of two places, the wide corridors where the silent auction was being held or out on the rooftop terrace that currently overlooked a sunset vista of Starling City. 

The official purpose of the gala was to raise money for the Queen Foundation and to honor the start of the Robert Queen Memorial Initiative, but for the elite, it was their current excuse to be seen and to be seen with all the most interesting people. Tonight, despite the athletes from the city’s favorite teams, the Mayor, industry leaders, and all the local on-air personalities mingling with the crowd, Oliver understood he topped the list. Society hadn’t yet decided if he should be forgiven for his perceived past, but famous or infamous, at tonight’s gala, he was the topic that wagged every tongue. 

He was putting up with the need to impress and titillate donors for one major reason. Tonight, Walter Steele was supposed to finally be back in town. Oliver intended to get as much information about his father’s book as he could from his father’s former best friend. Unfortunately, Steele’s plane had been delayed, though his mother assured him Walter would be there by the time dinner was served.

In the meantime, Oliver had been giving the people what they wanted, including a very awkward interview before the gala with Channel 52’s very own Bethany Snow. She hadn’t directly asked him if he killed his father, but she resurrected headlines from eight years ago that had. His mother assured him it was a puff piece and he of course dismissed the rumors, but until the evening news aired, they wouldn’t know for certain what angle they’d take. 

In the two weeks since he returned to Starling, he’d managed to keep a low profile, but all eyes were on him tonight. He walked off the elevator two hours ago and he hadn’t stopped smiling, shaking hands and posing for pictures. All evening people sidestepped directly bringing up his past while dropping what they thought were obscure hints about the topic.

They were not.

But Oliver kept smiling. 

The flashing cameras and the choking clouds of heavy perfume added to his growing headache. And his glass was empty. He was ready for a break. 

He scoured the room looking for Felicity. He knew she was there; he’d caught sight of her several times as he worked the room, but a steady parade of past acquaintances and “dear friends” of his mother and father kept him from getting closer. Determined, he put his head down and headed to the bar. There, he ordered a whisky, neat, and then snagged a flute of Champagne from one of the many trays circulating the room. 

Carrying two drinks, he avoiding having to stop and shake any eagerly thrust out hands and regretfully (yeah right) excused himself on his mission to deliver the second drink. He usually told people it was for his mother. He found most hesitated to thwart Moira Queen even on something so insignificant 

He spotted Thea across the room. Her flawless makeup hid the red, puffy, tear stained face he’d last seen. Her hair was fully styled, something more than waves but less than curls. Dress code was black tie, but Thea rejected anything floor length for a short, shimmering, burgundy wrap with thin spaghetti straps that criss-crossed across her open back. For the night, she’d taken off her foot brace, eschewing heels for flat, rhinestone studded, open-toe sandals. The look was young, flirty and every bit the young heiress ready to take on the world. Thea carried herself with a confidence that would have made their father proud.

Continuing on his search for Felicity, he popped his head in the ballroom. It was still sparsely occupied. There were a few people sitting at their preassigned tables, but for the most part, only the band, the wait staff, and Diggle leading a security team through some kind of final walk through were inside. Before he could move on to check the terrace, his mother found him.

“I have it on authority from multiple sources that drink is for me.” 

Caught, he smoothly handed her the Champagne flute. “Mother, I thought you might be parched.”

She smiled and gave him an indulgent look. “That was most thoughtful of you.”

His lips twitched into a nostalgic smile. They’d shared this script at many parties through the years. The first time, he’d been a preteen at another charity event much like tonight; Queen family public appearances started at a young age.

His mother was apparently thinking of the same incident.

“That first time, how many glasses of Champagne had you already had by the time you ‘brought’ me my drink?”

“Three.” 

Typically, the Champagne served at charity events leaned toward light and dry, but that night, a much sweeter sparkling wine, akin to a Riesling, had been making the rounds. The drink had vaguely reminded him of a tart Shirley Temple, only better, since Champagne was forbidden. 

“Which, probably,” he said, “is why I didn’t notice you standing behind me when I went back for the fourth glass.” 

The whole room had been pleasantly spinning up until he’d heard his mother’s voice. Still, he’d smoothly turned to her and handed her the flute saying he thought she might be parched, a phrase he’d only picked up that night. His mother raised a knowing eyebrow and had praised his thoughtfulness. Then he promptly threw up on her shoes. 

“You never scolded me.”

He’d made a public scene and definitely ruined an expensive pair of heels, but she and his father hadn’t yelled or made a big fuss. His dad led him off to a bathroom to clean up while his mom did the same. She’d gone barefoot the rest of the evening, something that charmed him to this day. They’d let him lie down in a storage room, making a bed out of some extra chairs, his mother checking in on him often. 

“Your father and I knew you were going to be punished enough.” She reached up to straighten his precisely tied bowtie in a motherly gesture. “You were sick the whole weekend.”

His first hangover delayed any further interest in alcohol for several years and forever placed anything close to a Riesling on his _never shall pass my lips_ list. But later, he’d remembered the deference he’d been given when he’d invoked his mother’s name and used the ruse to escape from a crowded party or as a way to sneak a cocktail to impress a girl. Moira allowed him get away with it as he got older, gently letting him know she was aware of his actions by occasionally swooping in and claiming her drink. Maybe not the best parenting choice, but it remained a fond memory. 

“Mother, have I told you how lovely you look tonight?” Perhaps he was feeling sentimental after reconciling with Thea or perhaps it was because tonight was about presenting a united front as they honored his father, but he wanted to hold onto that fond feeling a while longer. It was easy to compliment his mother; time had been kind to her.

She wore her hair down in a style similar to her day to day look, but made more elegant by a jet black comb matching the light-catching, beaded embroidery on the bodice of her smoky grey, floor length dress. The more traditional gown was cut in an A line but softened by a scoop neck overlaid with sheer material from her collar to her wrists and then to a skirt of floaty chiffon. 

Oliver’s lips twitched. For the past eight years, he could honestly say the word chiffon had not traipsed through his mind once, but while growing up in the Queen household, he’d absorbed fashion details about his mother’s haute couture right along with how to ride his bike, read the Queen Consolidated Annual Report, and tie a bow tie. 

His mother beamed.

“Thank you, Oliver. You look as handsome as I remember in formal wear. More.”

“The entire level looks beautiful.” The event’s theme was Urban Renewal, taking inspiration from New York City’s elevated park, the Highline, created on an obsolete railway track. The entire banquet floor was transformed with elements of brick, glass, and steel mixed with tall grasses, walls of moss, and curling ferns. Lounge areas using cushioned outdoor furniture further brought the outdoors inside. 

“I wanted everything to be perfect for your father. I’m so very glad you could be here to be a part of this.”

“So am I.” He meant it. 

“Me too,” Thea chimed in, swooping in to give him a quick hug as if they hadn’t previously seen each other that day. “Ollie is right; the whole floor is a show stopper.”

“It was your inspiration.”

“The theme was your idea, Speedy?”

“I made a couple suggestions.”

“Nonsense,” Moira said, dismissing her modesty. “She presented her entire vision to the committee right down to the Edison bulbs hanging from the ceiling. Thea has a natural flair for design.”

“I can see that. I’d be a fool if I didn’t take more advantage of her expertise. When you meet with Felicity on the project’s design, would you mind if your big brother sat in as well?”

Thea’s whole face lit up. “I think we can make room.”

“Excuse me, Mrs. Queen?” One of the wait staff interrupted. “You asked to be given a thirty-minute reminder before dinner was ready to be served?”

“Yes, thank you. I’ll see about moving the crowd to their tables.” Moira excused herself to handle the task. When she was out of ear shot, Oliver turned back to Thea.

“How are you doing?”

“I’m…” she shook her head and some of her true feelings showed through. “Truthfully, I’m not sure. I mean, my God, Ollie; Dad knew he might die.” 

After both Thea and Tommy agreed not to say a word about the videos, Oliver had conferred briefly with Felicity and then she cued up the final message from his father on her tablet. They’d stood back as confusion to shock to anger took over Tommy and Thea’s faces. His father’s whole message stayed fresh in his mind.

_"Hello, Oliver. _

_I told myself I was recording this message in case I died suddenly, but I wonder if it isn't just easier to say what I have to say to a video camera. _

_I'm not the man you think I am, Oliver. I didn't save our city, I failed it. I did something terrible, and in my efforts to make it right, I ignored my conscience and made alliances with terrible people. _

_There's a book. A book with a list of all their names. And with these people, I always told myself that everything I did, I did for my family. That's a lie. Because what good is a family without a soul? _

_You can right my wrongs. You can be better than I was. You can save this city._

_ I love you."_

After the video had played, Tommy sank onto one of the chairs around Felicity’s breakfast bar. Thea insisted immediately on watching it again. When it ended the second time, it was Tommy that broke the silence. He’d looked and sounded dazed.

“I’m going to say it. All the speculation that it was sabotage, could the tabloids have gotten it right? Not you having anything to do with it. But your dad, he was afraid. Is it possible that…” Tommy trailed off, unable to say the rest aloud. Thea didn’t have that problem. 

“He was murdered.” Her voice was thick and tears freely slid down her cheeks, but they were angry tears. She trembled with suppressed wrath. “He knew someone was coming for him, so he made the videos. Oliver, this is why you came home, isn’t it? The Foundation, honoring Dad, all that was for show.” 

“It’s not just for show; I care about Dad’s legacy too.” 

“But your return is about way more than fixing houses, isn’t it?” she’d asked.

“Yes.” He hadn’t known what else to say. He’d been in Thea’s place, though his denial had lasted longer than Thea’s. It hurt to watch her hurt. It also unnerved him how much his little sister’s sudden ferocity reminded him of their mother.

Thea had then fixed her attention on Felicity.

“You know more than just the videos, don’t you? You brought Oliver in on this. I want to know everything.” Thea hadn’t waited for confirmation before her questions came spilling out without pause.

“What did my father do? What about the list, the book of names? And how do we prove he was killed? Could we hire a dive team to find the Gambit? How deep is it where it sank? Do we know where it sank? Where do we start?”

Felicity had tried to slow her down.

“I know some things, but I don’t have all the answers, and I have to warn you, the ones I do have make everything a lot more complicated.” 

“Not this again.” Thea’s frustration cut off her tears. “I thought we were past this,” she said through gritted teeth. “This is my father we are talking about. Whatever you know, I need to know and whatever you are planning, I have a right to be a part of it.”

Tommy found his feet and stood. “Robert Queen may not have been my dad, but he’s the one that taught me to throw a ball, showed me how to shave, and said after my mom was killed, I could cry and still be a man. I want in too.”

“If after you hear everything, Tommy, if you still want to help, I’ll take it. And I’m not trying to shut you out Thea. I will share what I know, but we have to be smart about this. The deaths didn’t stop with the sabotage of the Queen’s Gambit. People that get involved have a history of dying.”

“Wait, you’re saying dad’s boat _was_ sabotaged? You know it for a fact?”

“I do, but,” she held up her hands, “it’s part of a much larger and much _longer _story. Tomorrow, if you still want answers, I’ll give them to you.” She glanced at the clock. “But tonight, we’re out of time.” 

“What do you mean…shit! The gala. I forgot all about it. My dress is back at the mansion. With rush hour, it will take forever to get a cab and even longer to get across town.” 

“I’ll drive you,” Oliver had offered, but Felicity shot the idea down.

“No. Your mom needs you there early, remember? You at least can still be on time even if the rest of us will be late.”

“I brought my Tux! I won’t be late either,” Tommy happily bragged. “And traffic’s not great, but you still have like two hours, how long does it take to throw on a dress?”

Felicity and Thea stared at him incredulously. Tommy turned to Oliver, “What did I say?”

“You’re on your own, Tommy.” 

He and Tommy went back to his place to change while Felicity grabbed her clothes and went back with Thea to the mansion to get ready. 

At the gala, Tommy abandoned him after the first photo op and was now doing his best to charm one of the female bartenders. Thea followed his eye.

“I wish I could be like Tommy and shove all of this out of my brain. How does he do it? This on top of his problems with the club would be enough to make me go cry in the corner and stay there.”

Oliver took a sip of his drink. “I didn’t know you knew.”

“I wasn’t sure you did either, but I figured this is no time for secrets. He’s had nothing but bad breaks lately. I was there when his in house DJ quit without notice. Tommy easily found someone to handle playing the music but it takes real talent to keep the excitement up all evening. He called in a favor for tonight and he can handle the job himself some nights, but if he’s always working the club shift, he’ll never have time to save his club. So I begged him for the job. I’d give him the money myself, but I can’t access that much until I’m 21 and by then, it will be too late.”

Something Thea said made his brain itch, but he couldn’t quite understand why. “Did he ask you for the money?”

“God, no. I think he’d be too proud to take it from me anyway.”

Oliver nodded. That’s what he was thinking as well. “I’m going to look over his deal and see if there are any loopholes he’s missed.” In all the commotion, the search Felicity started slipped his mind. Just another thing to add to tomorrow’s agenda. “And I don’t believe you by the way.” 

Thea looked ready to argue with him. He quickly shook his head. 

“I don’t mean about Tommy taking the money. I mean about you hiding in a corner if things get tough. You’ve never been one to give up. You didn’t on me.”

Pleased, Thea playfully punched him on the shoulder. 

“I knew I was wearing you down.”

“You were. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you before.”

“You don’t have to keep saying it.”

“Yeah, I do.” Thea may have forgiven him, but he wasn’t sure when he would forgive himself.

“I wish you would stop beating yourself up.” Thea shook her head. “You’re not the only stupid one. Instead of wearing you down, I should have just come clean. Hell, I should have listened to Felicity and tracked you down the first time it happened.”

If she had, would he have been ready to let Thea back into his life? The answer slammed home. Yes. He’d thought about reaching out so many times since Thea turned 18. He wouldn’t have turned his back if she’d come to him. So much time wasted. He didn’t say that though. Instead he asked, “What held you back?”

“I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me. No,” she shook her head. “That’s not really true. I mean, it was a part of it, but mainly, I was afraid you’d look at me like I’m something broken that’s one step from breaking in a million more pieces.” Thea looked away, blinking tears. “I’m still afraid of that,” she whispered. She took a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling loudly, like she’d been holding her breath. 

“I don’t think you’re broken, Thea. Dad’s death shattered our lives and I…I’m still putting the pieces back together. For a long time, I wasn’t sure where to start. In the end, where didn’t matter, just that I started to build something, anything.”

“I tried. I tried and everything fell apart again. I swear I never tried to hurt myself, but I did anyway. What if I’m not strong? What if I can’t put all the pieces back in place?”

“I don’t think you can.” Thea flinched. He shook his head. “I mean, I don’t think the pieces ever go back exactly like they were, but that’s not broken, that’s becoming something new.” Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of blue and his head followed. He found Felicity.

The wall of glass between them framed her perfectly and instinctively, he took a step in her direction. The first time he’d seen her, she’d worn a dress that accentuated her figure in all the right places and when they’d worked at home, she looked adorably sexy in the loose tops and stretchy track pants she’d worn about the house. Jeans, work or workout clothes, it didn’t matter, she always looked good, but tonight, he was blown away. 

Possibly there were other women at the gala technically more beautiful, but he was sure Felicity outshone them all. 

A French twist, simple in its sophistication, swept up her bright, golden hair, drawing the eye to the graceful length of her neck and the enticing curve of her jaw. No glasses tonight. Normally he was a fan of them, but tonight, the brilliance of her eyes were set off by the deep, cobalt blue of her dress. Ankle length, the dress she’d chosen had a high, silver-embellished, halter neckline and a bold, yet somehow refined thigh-high split in the front. The fabric hugged her curves without clinging to them and when she pivoted her body toward someone coming her direction, he saw the open back and discovered how incredibly sexy he found shoulder blades.

“God, you have it bad.”

“Hmm, what?”

“Fe-li-ci-ty.” Thea stretched out the syllables in a sing-song, teasing tone.

He scowled but couldn’t keep from glancing back through the window to the terrace. She’d been talking with Curtis Holt and another man he didn’t know, but the man that crossed over to join them looked familiar. Tall, dark hair, and Disney Prince like good looks.

He frowned harder when he realized it was none other than the man that poured money into his bank account buying his land, the reportedly brilliant, as well as philanthropic, Raymond Palmer of Palmer Tech. Ray, as he’d insisted he call him, had been earnest and wide eyed during their negotiation to the point where Oliver hadn’t trusted him even after he’d trusted the many zeroes on the check. His frown deepened. Ray was standing a little too close, but Curtis was even closer. 

“He’s engaged you know.”

"Curtis?” That would be good news.

“Actually, Curtis is married.”

Oliver scowled. “And his wife thinks this startup company with a beautiful, single woman is a good idea? They talk and text constantly and all of their free time is consumed with building their damn company.”

“It’s true, they are really close.”

He scowled. Thea laughed. 

“Oliver, have you met Curtis?”

He shook his head. He’d only seen him the one time from a distance, but he’d heard enough about him to last a lifetime.

“Oh, I’m dying to send you in blind but see that man standing next to Curtis?”

“Yes.”

“His name is Paul, he’s lovely, and he happens to be Curtis’s _husband_.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh. In addition to working on the weird jealousy thing, you might want to check your heteronormative bias.” She laughed again. 

“I don’t suppose Palmer is gay too.”

“No, but like I said, he is engaged, so you can stop trying to turn him into a puff of smoke with your laser beam eyes.”

“Engaged doesn’t always mean he’s not looking.”

Thea shrugged. “If he was, it would be up to Felicity to decide if she had a problem with that, but he’s engaged to Anna Loring.”

“Should I know who that is? Does that mean something?” 

“Anna is the daughter of the barracuda lawyer Mom hired for my case when I crashed. Everyone expected I’d get a slap on the wrist, but mom figured Jean Loring’s rep couldn’t hurt to make sure of it. Boy, that backfired. The judge saw my fancy defense attorney, noted my address, and decided to make an example out of me. If Felicity hadn’t come up with a horse to trade, I’d still be waiting for time off with good behavior. But I’m just saying Jean wouldn’t let her daughter stay with someone that was running around. Ray’s a nice guy. He’s not sniffing after your girl, or at least not why you think.”

“She’s not my girl,” he denied, then quickly asked, “Why is he sniffing around?” 

“Probably to convince her to drop her own company and go work for him. He’s not the only one after her either.”

Oliver frowned. “I’m confused. Felicity is obviously brilliant, so I understand her plan to start something of her own. But she’s also still in her twenties, hasn’t officially worked in her field in years and her previous position was overqualified IT girl. What has wunderkind CEO’s trying to snag her and tech companies waiting to throw seed money at her feet?” 

“You didn’t hear about Alexandria Freitas?” 

“Freitas. The office trailer is out in front of the Freitas Four. One of the units is for the Freitas family.”

“Yep, that’s her. Go ask Palmer to tell you about Alexandria Freitas. I’m sure he’ll give you the story and you know you are dying for an excuse to interrupt.” 

“I’m not…” he started to say but denial wasn’t a good look on him. He shook his head. “Since when were you giving us your blessing?”

“Um, since like two weeks ago on the condition of details never. Felicity hasn’t dated much lately and I mentioned, with the notable exception of Laurel, you’d always managed to stay on good terms with your past hookups, which made you the perfect candidate for a fling to get her out of her dating rut. You are welcome.”

He scrubbed his palm over his face. Hook up. Fling. Thea had them broken up before they’d started. No, that wasn’t true. Something started the day they met and had only been building before they put everything on pause. But how to get things off pause?

“So you just offered me up?”

“Well, she wasn’t going for Tommy.”

Oliver choked on his whiskey.

“You threw her at Tommy?”

“No I told you, she wasn’t interested, though Tommy was game. So if you’re really not interested, he might wear her down eventually.”

“I never said I wasn’t interested.”

“I guess that much is obvious. Half the time, Mom is convinced the only reason you came home was to have more time to seduce her.”

He’d have choked on his drink again, if he’d taken another sip. “Seduce her?” He didn’t like how that sounded. He shook his head and turned to go. “I’ll talk to you later.” 

“Don’t worry about what Mom says,” Thea said before he got too far. “The other half of the time she wonders if you are back for revenge. And that’s not counting the overlap where she wonders if you are going to use Felicity to enact your revenge.” Thea smirked and chuckled as he just kept walking.

*** 

A shiver of awareness rushed along the nape of Felicity’s neck. She turned her head slightly toward the sliding glass wall leading back inside, still nodding at whatever Ray was enthusiastically explaining about his research and development lab. She caught Oliver in her peripheral vision heading their way. Another electric shiver joined the first and snaked down her spine making her very aware of the low cut of her backless gown and every inch of bare skin exposed to the warm, evening air. 

When she and Thea arrived, a mere, fashionable hour late, she’d seen Oliver looking particularly handsome across a very crowded room proving that indeed, Oliver Queen could rock bowties. She’d forgotten all about the deadly to the female senses exception that was black tie. 

The crowd preventing her from speaking to Oliver proved the Queen Foundation’s gala was a success. Up close, his already devastatingly tailored tux was even more lethal. And what was it about the golden links securing the French cuff on his sleeves that made her knees just a little bit weak? She wasn’t the only one he affected. Curtis caught her hand tightly and whispered softly under his breath, “Stud alert, stud alert!”

Palmer paused in his speech, his keen brown eyes bouncing between them. 

“Hmm, what did you say?

Oliver’s arrival saved them from having to answer. He nodded to the group and held his hand out.

“Ray,” he said as a way of a greeting. There was an edge to his tone that went right over Palmer’s head. 

“Oliver!” Ray’s already wide grin grew wider. “I was hoping we’d get a chance to talk.”

He started enthusiastically shaking Oliver’s hand. Ray Palmer did most things with enthusiasm. Occasionally, his exuberance came off intrusive. The man wasn’t great with boundaries, not in a creepy trying to grope you way, but his excitement for whatever latest idea landed in his brain often meant he missed social cues. 

Like Oliver wanting his hand back. 

To make that finally happen, Oliver had to give a little tug. Felicity turned and plucked a flute of bubbly off a tray to mask her amusement and then swung back around to make quick introductions. 

“Oliver, you obviously know Ray, but this is Curtis Holt, my future business partner, and his husband Paul.” Paul shook his hand and murmured hello while Curtis quickly wiped his hand on his jacket before shaking Oliver’s hand almost as enthusiastically as Ray had.

“Hi, I’m Curtis, Felicity’s future business partner.”

“Yes, I think I heard that somewhere.”

“Right, right, ‘cause she just said that. Sorry, I’m a fan. A big, big fan. Would have stopped to say ‘Hey’ when Felicity had you locked down at her place but…” Curtis cringed and waved his hand. “That didn’t come out right. Not implying she kept you prisoner. No. No sir. No ropes or chains for you. Not that I’m implying she keeps ropes and chains for anyone else, though actually I don’t know if she…” 

Felicity interrupted before it got worse.

“Yes, we were working hard to ensure the start of the Initiative went well.”

Ray bobbed his head with excitement and looked to Oliver. “About that. Wonderful cause. Total surprise to see you back in Starling City. You seemed adamant about never returning last we spoke.”

“Circumstances changed.” His eyes slid her direction and lingered. Ray didn’t pick up Oliver’s outrageous implication that he’d come back for her, but Curtis’s eyes just about bugged out. She managed to keep a serene expression. She hoped. 

“What I’m sure Oliver means is being a part of the Robert Queen Memorial Imitative was too good an opportunity to pass up.”

“That must be what I meant.” 

She sent him a quick glare but didn’t want to draw more attention to his teasing. “Ray was just telling us about some new additions to his R&D lab.”

“Oliver,” Ray said, “maybe once you are done making use of Ms. Smoak’s beautiful brain, you can put in a good word for me. Convince Curtis and Felicity to take me up on my offer.”

“What offer would that be?”

Curtis answered. “To make SmoaknHolt— we’re still working on the name – an independent subdivision under the Palmer Tech umbrella. It’s a very generous offer, but Felicity and I are determined to set out on our own.”

Oliver raised his eyebrows. “That _is _a very generous offer.”

“How about I sweeten the deal.”

“It’s not about the money,” Felicity insisted.

“No, I get that, but I’ll tell you what, Palmer Tech will install solar panels for each of the families selected in this first phase of the initiative. No cost to the Foundation. Heck, we’ll take care of the second phase as well. And you can’t turn them down. I’m going to make it happen whether or not you come work for me.”

“Ray that’s…incredibly generous.”

“I’m committed to proving we want the same goals. That we can work together. Just tell me you’ll think about it.”

Curtis thrust out his hand. “Sure, that we can do.”

Oliver quietly sipped his drink and wondered if he should go exchange it for a double. The moment Ray slipped away to go find his fiancé, Curtis and Felicity’s heads went together and half of what they were saying flew over his. 

Curtis asked what had to have been a recurring question. “Are we idiots for not reconsidering his offer?”

“Possibly.”

“His lab has a hadron collider that could fit in your hand.”

“We’re not physicists.”

“I know, but still! And the LFEX? The laser produces two trillion watts! Two trillion!”

“What would you use it for?”

“Oh believe me, I’d find a reason. And their rare earths! Lanthanum, Cerium, Terbium – I could list all 17, because they have all 17, and then some. If I could get as much Neodymium as I wanted, just think how small I could make our processors. And…”

“Don’t worry,” the man at Oliver’s right assured him as the pair kept talking, “they won’t stay in their tech bubble for too long. They’ve had this conversation before.” 

“Paul, right?” Curtis’s husband was a heavy contrast to him. Pale, of average height and looks. And, at least in comparison to Felicity, Curtis, and Ray— a man of few words.

"Yes, that’s right.” He nodded in his husband’s directions. “Palmer Tech has been trying to recruit them to his team for more than a year. Neither of them, especially Felicity, want to answer to anyone else so they’ll hash it out again, and then come to the same conclusion they always do.” The shorter man shook his head. “It’s a wonder they work together as well as they do.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“Why is Palmer offering them basically the keys to his kingdom?”

“He knows what they can do.”

“What’s that?”

“Amazing things.”

“Do their amazing things have anything to do with someone named Alexandria Freitas? My sister mentioned the name, but was enigmatic.”

“You don’t know the story?”

“I know her family is part of the housing rehab initiative, but that’s all I know.”

“You’ve been away,” Paul nodded. “Ok, let me give you some background. Alexandria Freitas became a kind of local media darling the last few years here in Starling. When she was 14, she was presented with a Good Samaritan award for helping deliver her neighbor’s baby during a terrible snowstorm. The EMT’s couldn’t get through in time. There were complications and relying on instinct, she was able to untwist the cord around the baby’s neck before it was too late. She saved his life.”

“I imagine that would win her a spot on all the news channels.”

“Exactly. Perhaps two or three months later, she was back on the news raising money to build a local playground in her neighborhood. Just another puff piece but not long after that, tragically, a fire gutted the apartment building she and her mother lived in and a large number of people died because the complex—this was in the Glades—installed fake smoke detectors to save money.”

“That’s sick.”

“Agreed. Because of the girl’s previous time in the spotlight, she and her mother became the face and voice of the whole building. Loring Law took up the case pro bono and kept the tragedy in the news. I’m not exactly sure how that turned out since James Holder, the man accused of installing the fake smoke detectors, was assassinated for something unrelated along with a handful of other CEOs around the same time. I believe QC’s CEO was targeted then as well, though he survived even if his body guard that took the bullet for him did not.”

“What does this have to do with Felicity and Curtis’s popularity?”

“I’m coming to that. Anyway, Alexandria Freitas is known and beloved in Starling City. Good student, friend to all, activist. People cared what was happening in her life. The following spring she was awarded a ballet scholarship at a local academy.”

“I’m assuming this doesn’t end in ‘and she lived happily ever after’.”

“Yeah, tragedy struck again. Alexandria was coming home from the bus stop—after dance class of all things—and well, wrong place, wrong time; she gets shot. She lives, but one of the bullets nicks her spine and…”

“The beloved, teen, dance hero can’t walk.”

“Right. The injustice touched everyone. Candlelight vigils. Fundraisers. Corporations pledging to cover costs for all sorts of experimental stuff. But the doctors said no amount of money could undo the damage.”

“So what happened?”

Paul turned, searched for a moment and then discretely pointed Oliver to a group of girls in their late teens standing around talking on the other side of the terrace.

“What am I looking at?” 

“See the one in the yellow dress?”

“What about her?”

“That’s Alexandria Freitas.”

“She’s standing.”

“Standing, walking, even dancing I hear.”

“One of the treatments worked.”

“That’s what they let the general public assume, but word leaked out in the tech sector.” Paul glanced back at his husband. A look of pure pride came over his face. 

“Curtis and Felicity? What did they do?”

“They collaborated on a revolutionary spinal chip that bridged the gap between the messages Alexandria’s brain was sending and the ones her body was receiving.”

“What? Why aren’t they on the cover of every magazine?”

Paul shook his head. “It was all off the books. Completely experimental, but the family had nothing to lose. I’m a physical therapist over at Starling General and one of the surgical specialists was willing to do the implantation, but again, anonymously.”

“But it worked?”

“It did. Still, because of the unorthodox way it all happened, they had the choice of getting official credit or making Alexandria walk.”

“Their invention could change everything about spinal injuries.”

“Someday. There’s complications in duplicating what they did, like the cost.”

“That high?”

“At least half a million in materials alone; they’d never have been able to make Alexandria’s chip if they hadn’t used leftover materials from other projects in QC’s labs. Already expensed materials or none of this would have happened. QC is trying to reengineer the chip for less and once they hopefully succeed, there will be years of tests before they publically move forward. Also, since their contract stated anything Curtis and Felicity created while working for QC belonged to QC, they never would have gotten full credit anyway.”

“Then wouldn’t anything they are working on now for their company also be at risk?”

Paul shook his head. “Off books or not, the advancement they made was amazing, but instead of bonuses and promotions, Curtis and Felicity negotiated a new contract that released them going forward from the work product ownership and non-compete clauses. What comes next, they can claim all as their own.” 

“Very impressive.”

“And biomedical wasn’t even in their field of expertise. So yeah, you can understand why they are in demand.”

“And I made her my assistant,” Oliver said under his breath. No wonder she’d been furious. He couldn’t understand why she hadn’t quit right then. She wanted his help finding the truth, but he wouldn’t have walked if she’d quit her day job. She had to have known he’d been hooked by then. 

A memory from the day she’d shown up on his doorstep popped into his mind. He’d asked why she stayed working with his family. 

“_Because they need me.”_

Felicity put her brilliant, world-changing mind on hold to play his glorified secretary because she thought he needed her. Would it be less galling if every part of him didn’t cry out she was right? 

“What was that?” Paul asked.

Oliver shook his head. “Nothing.” He nodded toward Felicity and Curtis. “Looks like they are wrapping up.”

“So we agree; we say no to Palmer Tech.” Curtis said.

“We’re agreed.” Felicity nodded.

“Ok. Since I think I just turned town millions, I’m going to need a lot stronger drink. Paul?”

“I’ll come with you.”

As Curtis and Paul left, Oliver silently observed Felicity. She caught him watching. 

“What?” She paused with her Champagne glass halfway to her mouth. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Perhaps I’m feeling remiss for having not yet told you how beautiful you make that dress look.”

“I’m sure you mean the other way around.”

He shook his said and said simply, “No.”

She blushed and ducked her head nervously. 

“Well, it’s hard not to feel beautiful in couture. Your sister is both my inspiration and downfall. Doesn’t she look fabulous tonight? And you! You are working. The tux, I mean. You are working the tux. Yep, workin’ it like ‘til it drops dead from exhaustion.” Felicity hastily took a long sip.

“Felicity,” smiling, he said her name. 

She peered at him, cringing. “Yes?”

“Thank you for the compliment.”

She relaxed and laughed. “I’m glad you figured out there was one in there. God, I don’t know why my tongue does things like that to me. I keep thinking one day I’ll be able to just carry on a conversation normally all the time like it seems everyone else manages to do.”

“I sincerely hope that day never comes. I would never want you to change who you are.”

She blushed again but the smile that bubbled up this time came from pleasure, not from nerves. 

“I’ll take that under consideration.” She switched topics. “I saw you talking with your mother. You seemed to be getting along. I mean more so than the normal Queen Family social graces.”

He liked that she’d been keeping track of him closely enough to notice, even if the topic made him slightly uncomfortable.

“Tonight has been…really the whole day has been…” he trailed off shaking his head.

“Emotional?”

He nodded. “Thea, Tommy, the gala honoring dad.” You. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m feeling sentimental.”

“Whatever it is, you made her very happy.”

“That’s important to you, my family’s happiness.”

“You still sound surprised.”

“Do I?” He shook his head. “No, I know my mom and Thea are a priority for you.” And her company. And solving the mystery of his father’s death. And helping with the Foundation’s project had been as well. But without the Initiative, without the mystery around his father’s death, where would he rank in her list of priorities? 

“I’ve upset you. Why?”

“I’m not,” he denied.

“Your scowl says otherwise.”

He didn’t like acting irrationally. He had no reason to be upset. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day. Like you said, emotional. And it’s been a long time since I’ve been standing in the main ring at the circus.”

“If you want, I can give you a moment to be by yourself.”

“No, stay, please. I’m not looking to be alone. I just…I don’t feel like talking about my family, or the Foundation’s project or the other reason I’m in town.”

“Ok. Fair enough. Any idea what you do want to talk about?” When he didn’t answer immediately, she casually walked closer to the terrace’s edge, leaned one hand on the ledge and peered over. “I guess there’s always the view. Starling by starlight is amazing. The city lights stretch on like they go right up into the sky.”

He got rid of his empty glass on a tray and joined her in the shadowy corner. She was right; the view was spectacular, though he wasn’t concentrating on the cityscape. He covered her hand where it rested on the brick ledge. 

She glanced at their hands and then up into his eyes, studying him a moment as he gazed back. She smiled and without saying anything, rotated her hand, loosely intertwining their fingers before returning to watchfully take in the twinkling lights below. Something inside him loosened. They stood that way for a while, the sense of connection growing with every breath. He’d needed this. He was ready to break the silence when someone from the catering staff stepped onto the terrace.

“Dinner is being served in five minutes. If everyone would please head to the ballroom and find their tables.”

He glanced around and realized they were among the few remaining stragglers not already inside the banquet hall. He offered her his arm, not ready to give up contact yet. She slid her arm through his, and despite their disparity in height, it felt the most natural thing in the world to walk together in tandem. 

Felicity paused just inside the ballroom and reluctantly released his arm. Or at least he thought he read reluctance in her eyes. He knew he felt it on his side. She nodded toward the band that softly played some old standard in the background. 

“I’m over there at table M. I see you’re seated upfront with the donors from the golden circle.”

“I could rearrange that and join you.”

“No.” She ran her fingers along the edge of his lapel. “The Foundation is benefiting from their very generous donations. Besides,” her eyes twinkled mischievously, “I think Ray would miss you if you didn’t show up.” 

Oliver glanced at his table. Ray Palmer cheerfully waved at him like a kid from across a playground. 

“Be nice. He’s one of the good guys and we want those solar panels.”

“Save me a dance after dinner?”

“You know where to find me.”


	17. Chapter 17

At the gala, during dinner, Felicity watched from afar as Oliver stepped back in the main ring of the circus. Everyone at his table was either a celebrity, a billionaire, or about to be married to one. The ring of tables surrounding him was stocked with much the same caliber. Caliber of bank account or fame, of courses, not character. She recognized at least a third of those surrounding him as names from his father’s list. 

During the salad and entree, some unspoken dictate allowed Oliver to merely entertain his assigned table, after all, those donors had paid extra for the privilege, but as speeches commenced and coffee and desert began to be served. He was pulled at from all those surrounding him.

His professional smile flashed constantly but even from her corner near the band, Felicity could tell rarely did it reach his eyes and too often, he lost the smile altogether as society tried to take chunks of his soul for their souvenir bags. She wished Thea or Tommy or even his mother would have been there to help deflect what must have been a barrage of intrusive questions and comments. His food went nearly untouched but so did his wine glass. If she’d have been in his shoes, she’d probably have been plastered by the time the blueberry cobbler arrived. 

“Earth to Felicity. Hello,” Curtis waved his hand in front of her face.

“I’m sorry I…”

“Was staring at Oliver Queen again. Man is hot, I get it, but you’ve done nothing but Queen watch the whole evening. Is something up between the two of you?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about. I just don’t like seeing a friend getting harangued like he is.”

“Friends. That’s what you are going with?”

Friends was a more intimate label than what she’d allowed even that morning. She’d been trying to stick with colleague or partner but that was a lost battle. They worked together. And worked well together. They had a shared mission and purpose. But she also enjoyed his company and it felt natural between them. Already the idea of not seeing him every day felt abnormal. So yes, friends fit. Only, out on the terrace, they hadn’t felt like _just_ friends. 

She couldn't have been imagining it this time, could she? 

One kiss. Ok, one long stream of kisses, but then they put everything on hold. Technically. No kissing but lots of loaded moments. At least she'd thought they were loaded. She thought she knew the direction they’d been headed. But then there’d been the confusion at the gym. But maybe that was the aberration, not all the other moments?

If Oliver wasn’t interested, she could live with that. The past could stay in the past. But did she want it to?

What she didn’t want was to get her heart broken. Oliver in Starling City was a short term arrangement and as much as Thea encouraged her to go for a fling, she wasn’t sure Oliver was fling material, not with him living next door and all they still needed to do. She’d had good reason to put the brakes on whatever had been sparking between them. 

But then, what had that been on the roof? They’d held hands, which by anyone’s standards was completely innocent. There hadn’t been anything sexual about it even if she could not think of anyone she found more attractive than Oliver Queen. It had been about comfort. He’d been tired. Lonely. Looking for a small connection in a big world. That’s what they’d found with their hands entwined. A connection. Friends could hold hands. 

“It’s what we are. And co-workers.” She told Curtis. 

“You and I are friends and co-workers. If I looked at you like Oliver Queen looks at you, well for one thing, Paul would not be my husband.”

“You are exaggerating.”

“Am I? Anyway, I don’t think you need to worry about Oliver Queen getting too much attention. His kind pops from the womb ready to go on a charm offensive. He probably missed being the center of speculation.”

No, Curtis was wrong there. Oliver may be naturally poised, articulate, and able to turn on the charm faster than she could boot up a computer, but she’d read the weariness in his eyes and knew how much a toll the evening had already taken out of him.

Up on the stage, Walter Steele, the black man looking and sounding the epitome of his elegant self, was in the midst of his speech extolling both the program and the man the Robert Queen Memorial Initiative honored. It was a good speech, but she was distracted by something going through the crowd. Heads kept leaning together, followed by nods and speculative glances Oliver’s way. Whatever it was reached Moira a second later. She didn’t exactly frown, but her public smile faltered for a moment. Then Moira seem to demur, shaking her head and while Felicity didn’t have an A game when it came to lip reading, the phrase ‘I don’t think so’ was easily understood. 

Moira’s reluctance then fell under pressure from several more requests from around the table, including the Mayor, several prominent members of the City Council, and a weaselly looking man she recognized as heading the committee that would be making a critical zoning ruling that could shut down phase two of the initiative before it even started. Moira graciously, if reluctantly, nodded and set aside her napkin. 

She beckoned one of the servers. They conferred and the waitress pulled a notebook and a pencil from her apron. Moira wrote a quick note, handed everything back to the waitress and conferred for another moment. Moira was very hands on in running the event, so by itself, there was nothing unusual in her actions, but then she rose from her seat and went to the neighboring table to speak to her son. 

Whatever she said into Oliver’s ear brought a scowl and an immediate shake of his head. But Moira was firm, inclining her head toward the table where’d she’d left sitting the City’s highest, elected level of influencers. With an icy smile Felicity hoped never to see directed at her, Oliver nodded once and then gave his full attention to Walter as he concluded his speech. Before he could leave the podium, someone came out from behind stage and delivered a note. Walter read it and then spoke into the microphone.

“Ladies and Gentleman, I’ve been informed of a small addition to tonight’s program. Please join me in welcoming Oliver Queen to the podium.”

Felicity was almost relieved that all the furtive whispering only amounted to an unplanned speech. The ballroom of attendees that had been dutifully listening straightened up and edged forward in their seats. Her heart panged though as Oliver ascended the stage and the stiff line of his shoulders broadcast his discomfort. 

Once in front of the lectern, he made an effort to smile but it wasn't close to genuine. She wasn’t certain anyone else noticed. He adjusted the microphone and began. 

“Good evening. I’ve been asked to say a few words. I hadn’t planned on speaking tonight, so I don’t have anything prepared. But I’m here, as we all are, to honor my father’s legacy. My dad would be proud to see his name on this initiative and I am glad I’m here to be a part of it.”

He paused and looked around the ballroom, taking a moment to gather his thoughts before he continued. Felicity sat a little taller in the hopes he might see her, but his eyes didn’t land anywhere in particular.

“My father, he felt a responsibility to this city and to the people, all the people, who call it their home. People who, as someone recently reminded me, are the lifeblood keeping Starling City running. We who profit from this city have a responsibility to those that make it possible. 

“It’s a responsibility my father felt he hadn’t yet lived up to when he died." A twinge of sadness passed over his face.

“I…I miss my father. It doesn’t feel right that I should be here on this stage honoring his memory.”

“Murderer!” An anonymous voice shouted from somewhere in the ballroom. 

The room responded with a collective gasp. Furious, Felicity jumped to her feet and craned her neck trying to locate the heckler, but acoustics in the ballroom made it hard to pinpoint what direction the shout came from. She wasn’t even certain if the voice belonged to a man or woman. Everywhere she looked, there were other people also looking around puzzled. There were several exits to the kitchen where all the catering staff was coming and going, not to the mention main doors and the area curtained off backstage.

On stage, Oliver’s expression tightened as he too scanned the room with no success. Then, showing off that legendary poise Curtis claimed came from birth, Oliver motioned to the crowd to please sit. When the room returned to order, he shared a rueful smile and shook his head.

“No, that was not a confession.” His easy rejoinder brought nervous laughter. He then shed the joking attitude. “Eight years ago, I was tried in the court of public opinion. At the time, I accepted my sentence.” He shook his head. “Not because any deliberate actions on my part brought about my father’s death, but because the life I’d led somehow allowed many to think I could have wanted my father dead.”

The room was riveted. Even the usual whispered conversations and sounds of clinking silverware were absent. 

“When I left Starling City, I was angry. I have returned angry. Angry my father was taken from me. Angry it took losing him to make me a better man. Everyone in this room should be angry as well, because the truth is my father wa…” Oliver stopped himself and looked down, flattening his mouth into a frown. The hands that had been holding onto the podium now rested on top in two balled up fists. 

Felicity held her breath. How was he going to complete that sentence? Was he going to tell the city the truth? That Robert Queen was murdered? Part of her wanted him to say it, to hell with the consequences. Oliver raised his head and once again glanced around the room. This time his gaze did linger her direction. He took an even breath, exhaled, and then resumed speaking in a more moderate tone.

“The truth is, my father wanted great things for this city and had he lived, I think we still would have been here honoring his legacy, only he would have been here on stage instead of me to thank you for your support." He shook his head. 

“My father was not a perfect father. Or a perfect husband. Or a perfect man. Who is? God knows, I’m not a perfect son. But before his death, my father was striving to be a better man. He wanted to right his wrongs, but he never got the chance. 

“The Robert Queen Memorial Initiative is not enough to fix our city’s failings or to fix our failings as citizens of this city. But it’s a first step. 

“My father left me a legacy. To finish what he started. To save his city. To save _our_ city. This is what I have come home to do, and for giving me a chance to do it, I thank you all.”

***

A massive wave of applause followed Oliver as he stepped back from the podium. He channeled every bit of self-control he had left to contain the adrenaline battering his nervous system. He needed a moment, so he headed behind the curtain, stepping from the glare of the spotlight into the shadows. Before his eyes could adjust, a hand clapped on his shoulder. The owner of the hand didn’t know how close he came to getting his head knocked off. 

“Oliver. That was a fine speech,” Walter Steele said in his refined English accent. 

“Walter.” 

The very man he had come to see, only with his emotions all over the place, Oliver wasn’t sure he was collected enough to have the conversation with Walter he needed. But he’d already waited two weeks. He wasn’t going to miss his chance. “Thank you. I enjoyed what you said as well. I worried you might not make it.”

“Your father was my best friend. It was important for me to be here. He would have been very proud of how you handled yourself, both tonight and over the years.”

“I’m not so certain about that.”

“I am. When your father died, you were done a great injustice. Over the years, I’ve often wished there had been something more I could have done.”

“I’m glad you feel that way. There is something you can do now.”

“Oh? How may I help?”

“You can give me the book, my father’s list.”

Walter’s open expression turned to stone. His eyes darted around, verifying they were alone. “I take it the rumors about your closeness to Ms. Smoak are true.”

“A gentleman never tells.”

“If you have a care for Ms. Smoak or yourself, you will leave the list in the past. Don’t stir up what you do not understand.”

“It’s too late. I stirred things up just by coming home.” 

“Why did you come home?”

“I just told everyone why. I’m looking after my father’s legacy. Finishing what he started.” 

Walter looked alarmed. 

“Just what has Felicity been telling you?”

“I know my father was murdered. And I know for goddam certain it wasn’t by me.”

Walter glanced around carefully again. There was no one else with them as far as Oliver could tell, but his former stepfather took a step closer and lowered his voice anyway.

“Give up this path you are on. You will not like the answers you find.”

“Whatever they are, they’re still mine to find. The book. Where is it?” He pressed.

“I did the only sensible thing I could. I destroyed it. Years ago.”

Oliver narrowed his eyes. “I don’t believe you. My father once told me you were the shrewdest man he knew. That book is leverage and you,” he shook his head, “you are not a man to give up an advantage.”

“That book brings advantage to no one. It destroys lives. Eight years ago, you may have been done an injustice, but you also were given a gift you cannot fathom. Live the life you have now and be grateful for it.” 

Walter turned on his heel and walked away. 

Oliver cursed silently under his breath. He took the moment he should have taken before confronting Walter to calm down and then made his way out from behind the stage.

Near the stage exit, he heard a loud buzz of conversation, the kind of noise a moderate crowd would make, so he reversed course to bypass the people waiting to congratulate him on his speech. He went the long way around back through the kitchens. He got a few glances of recognition but was left alone. Before he stepped back into to the ballroom, he peered through a round window in the door searching for golden hair and a cobalt blue dress.

He spotted Felicity alone, scanning the room, not too far from where she’d been sitting. Most guests had moved away from the area. With the band playing, anything but close conversations would have been difficult. A few couples were on the dance floor, but it wasn’t yet crowded. 

To stay out of sight, he skirted the edge of the ballroom, coming up behind the elevated platform where the band played. From there, he slipped up behind Felicity and tapped her on the shoulder.

She whirled around. “Oliver! There you are.” She cocked her head to the side. “Oh no, what does that face mean?”

Half the ballroom turned when Felicity said his name. The crowd waiting near the stage exit immediately on mass headed their direction. He took her hand and led her to the dance floor where they could at least have some privacy. The band was playing a slow song, crooning about that sweet embraceable you. As he and Felicity started swaying to the music, he couldn’t help notice the way she fit in his arms.

“What took you so long? What happened?” Felicity asked, impatient for details. 

“I spoke to Walter about the book.”

“What did he say?”

“That he destroyed it.” 

“Do you believe him?”

He shook his head. “But that doesn’t get us the book. He knows a lot more than he’s saying.”

“The complete list could have been helpful, but we have other places we can look for answers.” 

“You mean Merlyn Global once the merger goes through.”

“That’s the plan. Right now, I’d have to be onsite at MG to get in since I haven’t been able to find a back door. That changes once it becomes a subsidiary of QC. I own that system in every way.”

“You seem sure you are going to find something.”

“The security at Merlyn Global is too good. No one pays that close attention to closing all the system loopholes unless they have something they are very serious about protecting.” 

“You’ve kept everyone out of QC.”

“Yes, but I’m just that good.” Her eyes twinkled and she laughed. “No, Merlyn Global didn’t secure its system like I did with QC. It sequestered the main servers in a way that hampers productivity and they wouldn’t do that unless someone had something to hide.”

Oliver studied the woman in his arms. He thought he’d be brooding about his failure with Walter all evening but Felicity was right, they had other options and when he was around Felicity, smiling felt just as natural as holding her in is arms. What did he have to brood about?

“You are, aren’t you?”

“Hmm?”

“Just that good. Paul told me about Alexandria Freitas.” He shook his head in wonder. “You are amazing.”

Felicity blushed. “Curtis and I make good collaborators. We cover different parts of the same spectrum.”

“I can see that now. And I’m sorry. I should never have given you a hard time about spending time with Curtis on the company. SmoaknTech, was it? 

“SmaoknHolt, but the name is a work in progress. I think it sounds too much like an 80’s crime solving duo.”

He laughed. She smiled along with him only for her expression to grow pensive. She leaned back as far as her looped arms around his neck would allow her and studied him. 

“Why _were_ you being such a grump? It wasn’t like you.”

“Some would say grumpy is my default.”

“Then those people don’t really know you that well.” 

“Or maybe being around you puts me in a good mood,” he deflected, not sure he wanted to explain his irrational jealousy over a company.

“Oh good, I was curious what your charm offensive used to look like. Frankly,” she feigned a yawn, “I expected a little more game from a player.”

“Former player. I’m not trying to be charming.”

“Aww, I guess you just can’t help it then. Look around, you charmed everyone here.”

He glanced around as they slowly turned on the dance floor. Something had changed since his speech. He was still the main attraction at the gala but now, rather than furtively looking away, most of the curious faces wore a smile or nodded encouragement when he met their eye.

Most, but not all.

From behind the raised tiers where the band played, a woman on a mission, wearing a scowl like she’d invented scowling, strode their direction. He had just enough time to follow his instincts and tuck Felicity behind him when the woman drew a gun from the waistband of her caterer’s uniform. 

“Murderer!”

He recognized the voice.

There was a gasp that recreated the interruption during his speech and then people spotted the gleaming black gun in her hand. Screams erupted. The band stopped playing and someone crashed into the cymbals in their hurry to find cover. The rest of the dance floor cleared. People fled back stage and toward the other exits further emptying out the ballroom. The woman briefly stopped pointing the gun at him and Felicity to fire a warning shot into the ceiling. In the chaos, he tried to get Felicity out of there. 

“Don’t take another step!” 

He froze. They’d gotten close to the cover the tables might have provided, but not close enough. He shoved Felicity behind him again. 

“Everyone stay where you are!” With only the bandstand behind her in the corner, the woman had a clear view of everyone still in the ballroom. “People will need to see this. Where’s the news crew! There’s always a news crew!!” 

A crazed kind of excitement gleamed in the woman’s eyes but otherwise there was nothing very remarkable about her. Brown hair, probably in her early thirties. Average height and weight, not beautiful but not unattractive if you could look past the cruel twist to her smile. Oliver was positive he’d never met her and crossed scorned ex off the list at least. 

She waved her gun around again. 

Everyone had passed through the metal detectors in the lobby. How had she even gotten a gun into the building? Even Diggle and his security staff were only armed with Tasers. Where was security? He considered his distance from the woman. If she knew anything about shooting guns, she was too close to miss. 

“Nobody leaves until I’m finished. Where is the camera! I swear I will empty this gun right now if I don’t see…ah, there you are.” She suddenly sounded almost pleasant. 

Bethany Snow, the blonde anchor from Channel 52 who had filmed his interview earlier, stepped out from behind a moss decorated panel. Her camera man followed. The steady red light on his machine confirmed they were being filmed for posterity. 

“Good, good. Get a good angle.” She waved them like a director toward the dance floor so they could capture the whole scene from the side. It also placed them closer to her line of fire. “Your viewers will want to see this. Tonight, I’m doing what no one else will do. I’m bringing justice to Starling City.” She held the gun steady in her hands, keeping Oliver directly in her sights with Felicity directly behind him. “Oliver Queen wasn’t satisfied killing his father. No. When he sabotaged his father’s ship, he also doomed every innocent crew member, including _my_ father!”

“I swear, I didn’t do anything to harm your father, my father or anyone else.”

“Liar!” She shook the gun for emphasis but kept it pointed at them. Behind him, Felicity was silent but ridged, holding tightly to the fabric of his jacket.

“If that was true,” she shouted to the rest of the room without taking her eyes or gun off Oliver, “then why did your family cover it up?” She nodded her head. “I have proof! I have pictures of the wreckage! Queen’s Gambit was sabotaged. He set explosive charges, got off the boat safely with his whore and let everyone else on board go to their doom.”

From what Felicity had told him, the woman was getting a few details right but where would she have gotten pictures? 

“You took my father away from me. How dare you speak of _your_ anger! He worked for your family for 14 years, missing birthdays and holidays and anniversaries because your family had to come first. You could always depend on Captain Welrose,” she sneered. “Did you for even one second think about the other lives you were destroying? The families left broken, the people that couldn’t bear the pain? You might as well have held the gun to my mother’s head.” 

“Oh, god,” Felicity whispered, affected by the anguish in the woman’s voice.

“I’m sorry you suffered,” Oliver told her, “but I didn’t do anything to the Gambit. I didn’t harm your family.”

“You’re not sorry,” she said in the same incredulous tone one would say pigs don’t fly. “You don’t care. No one cared. Where were the headlines about the rest of us? Only Starling City’s first family, the Queens, got any attention. You being run out of town was the only just thing that happened and now, you come back like all is forgotten?” She shook her head. “No. I can’t allow that. If no one else will do it, I will. You will suffer the way you made the rest of us suffer. Where are they? TELL ME!” 

“Who?”

“The princess and Queen Moira herself. Yeah, it’s your family on the line this time. Finally, you will feel what I and every other family left behind felt when their loved one made the mistake of working for Starling City royalty." 

Behind her, Oliver saw Diggle creep around the raised stage. The man gave a quick negative shake of his head and mouthed, “They’re safe.” A weight lifted from Oliver, but Felicity was still too close. Would this woman care about collateral damage when she finally took her revenge? 

“Where are you hiding?” She demanded to ballroom. “Bring them to me!”

“No.” Oliver slowly shook his head. “That’s not going to happen. Put the gun down.”

She wildly looked over the crowd.

“Why are you hiding them? Everyone here is complicit!” She swept her gun in an arc. More screams rang out. She looked like she might simply start shooting into the crowd.

“Hey, hey, look at me.” He tried to get her attention. He slowly took a few steps away from Felicity. He wasn’t going to let her get caught by a bullet meant for him. She grabbed at his arm to stop him from making himself a target, but he shrugged her grip off and gained another couple precious feet. “I’m the one you blame. You don’t want to hurt these people.”

She again pointed the gun firmly on him. 

“I’m the one you want. I’m the one you’re here for.” He repeated like a mantra. Behind her, Diggle was silently moving ever closer. If he could keep her attention on him for just a little while longer, Diggle would have the chance to make his move. 

“I came to make you suffer.” That mad excitement in her eyes flashed even stronger. “If I can’t have your family, I’ll settle for the whore you’re currently sleeping with.” Pivoting, the woman shifted her aim from him to Felicity. Panic, like a muffled roar underwater screamed through his head and everything happened at once. 

Oliver lunged forward uncaring if he was left exposed. He moved in slow motion, caught in a nightmare with his feet stuck in quicksand. From a nearby table, Felicity grabbed a plate, launched it like a Frisbee and dived behind the table just as the shot rang out. Seconds later, he was fighting the Captain’s daughter for control of the gun. The woman shrieked her fury. Rage made her strong. She pulled the trigger again, but the shot went into the ceiling.

Before she had the chance to try anything else, Diggle came up behind her, banded his massive arms around her and lifted her off her feet while Oliver wrenched the gun away. Immediately, he tossed the weapon aside and scrambled back across the edge of the dance floor. All he saw were Felicity’s silver strapped shoes sticking out beyond the folds of the tablecloth draping the banquet table.

“Felicity!” He was trapped back in the nightmare. He didn’t breathe until he heard her voice. 

“I’m ok,” she said, but her voice sounded as shaky as he felt. He helped her to her feet and pulled her into a tight hug, closing his eyes and burying his face in her hair. She clung to him hard in return. And for a minute, that was all that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd just like to state for the record that I had written this scene many months before the Arrow episode from season 7 ever even mentioned the Captain of the Queens Gambit's offspring. I was so proud of finding a sliver of cannon the show hadn't yet explored only for the show to beat me to the punch, lol. Oh well. Child of the Captain is pretty much where the similarities end at least. Thanks for listening to me grumble, :D


	18. Chapter 18

Felicity accepted the cup of coffee from Diggle with murmured thanks. She took a sip; it was sweet, strong, and hot. Exactly what she needed. Even with Oliver’s borrowed suit jacket still draped around her shoulders, she couldn’t stop shivering. 

Diggle settled next to her on the cushioned bench looking out at the outside terrace. Other guests of the gala still milled around, huddling in groups gossiping and not so surreptitiously staring. Only the security personal positioned at a discrete distance dissuading any “comforters” kept her from being mobbed. She felt like an art instillation. All she was missing were the velvet ropes.

“The police should be finished with Oliver soon.” 

She wished they had let her wait on the executive floor where they interviewed the witnesses most involved. All the guests and staff members had been interviewed as well, though that had been a more informal business and somehow only added to giddy air of the gala as everyone waited their turn. When the police were done with her, she’d been given the choice of going home, waiting in the lobby where dozens of reporters had already gathered or going back to the gala. She wasn’t going anywhere without Oliver.

“Good. Do you know where Moira is? I haven’t seen her since right after.”

“She insisted on handling a few final details with the silent auction.”

“I can’t believe how many people stayed as if nothing happened. Actually, I can believe it. Who would want to leave when they can watch the drama continue to unfold? The band hasn’t stopped playing since. Is it true people just pushed a few tables out to the way and are dancing around the cordoned off area of the dance floor?” Felicity asked. 

“That’s not important. People needed to stay so the police could speak to everyone.”

“That was two hours ago,” she grumbled as she took another sip of her coffee. 

“How are you doing?”

“I’m fine.”

He gave her an exasperated look. “How are you really doing?”

She sighed. “I’m on edge. Exhausted but not tired. Mad. Worried. Rattled. No way I’ll be able to sleep tonight.” She shook her head. “Poor Oliver.”

“Poor Oliver?” John crossed his arms over his chest. “Pretty sure you’re the only one she fired directly at. Good work with the plate. The distraction probably saved your and Queen’s life.”

She warded off another shiver. She didn’t like to think about how close they came to not walking away. 

“Always be mindful of your surroundings,” she said, injecting forced cheerfulness into her voice. “You taught me that.”

“Who knew you were paying attention?” he teased. “Seriously though, you did good. You kept your head. You waited for your opportunity. You took it. Now she’s in custody and won’t be bothering anyone again.”

They both turned their head as Thea strode their way, returning with four plates balanced in her hands and arms. Twenty minutes ago, when Tommy had to get back to his club before the person covering for him left, Thea walked away with him, muttering about being right back with something Felicity needed. Apparently that was dessert. She’d returned with a variety of options. 

“Here. Pick something. It’s medicinal. I read somewhere sugar is good for people recovering from shock.”

“I’m fine, Thea.”

“Well I’m not. You want the blueberry crumble, the cherry cheesecake bites, chocolate mousse or the carrot cake?” She asked nodding to her different offerings. 

“Where did the last three come from?”

“I have my resources. Pick one.”

Felicity decided not to argue. Hell, after the day she had, she deserved a second dessert. She pointed to the creamy mound of whipped goodness.

“Give me my chocolate.”

Thea somehow deftly held onto the other three plates while transferring a stemmed crystal bowl to Felicity’s hands. A spoon appeared out of a pocket Felicity hadn’t realized existed in the short dress. 

“I got yanked away by security before I finished my crumble so the blueberry’s mine,” Thea said and then nodded at the remaining choices. “Mr. Diggle, anything look good?”

He hesitated. Felicity spoke with the spoon still in her mouth. “He wants the carrot cake but is afraid it’s unprofessional.”

“It _is_ unprofessional.”

Thea ignored him and pushed the plate into his hands. “If anyone asks, just tell them, I made you. I’m pushy that way.” A fork came from the same pocket as the previous utensil. Thea held it out like a challenge, complete with one judging eyebrow raised in an eerie imitation of her mother. 

Amused, Diggle accepted her challenge. “Fine. A taste.”

Thea flashed him a smug smile, set the unclaimed cheese cake on the table next to them and settled in a wicker chair. “Oh, almost forgot.” She reached into her other pocket. “Napkins.”

John muffled a laugh. “If the heiress thing doesn’t work out, my sister-in-law owns a Big Belly Burger downtown. She’s always on the lookout for a good waitress.”

Thea paused as she dug eagerly into her dessert and nodded regally as if she was seriously considering it. “I’ll add that to my list of options.”

Already halfway through her decadent concoction, Felicity forced herself to slow down and savor it. She asked the question that had been on her mind. Well, one of them.

“Do we know who she is? The police wouldn’t tell me anything.”

Diggle nodded. “The police are still finishing up with their interviews, but yeah, we pretty much have our answers. Carina Welrose, 31, only child to the late Captain Mackenzie Welrose. She hasn’t stopped talking since they hauled her away. Her mother committed suicide five months ago after a lifetime of battling addiction and depression. Despite that, Carina blamed it all on her father’s untimely death.”

“And blamed her father’s death on Oliver.” Felicity added.

“The whole Queen family really,” John clarified.

“Great. One more thing to bring up with my therapist,” Thea said.

“Carina was fixated on your family, but she showed up in the system well before the Gambit sank. There’s a sealed juvie file but at 18 she was on probation for malicious property destruction and by 21, she’d been hit with two restraining orders. Since then, there’s been a couple DUI’s, some domestic altercations, assault and battery, petty theft, fraud, vandalism. She’s been remanded by the court for anger management twice.”

“Don’t think she got much out of her sessions,” Thea muttered. 

“How did she get in?” Felicity asked. “How did she get a gun in past the metal detectors? Or with her record, get a gun at all?”

“The gun’s registered to her father.” Diggle paused and frowned. “It’s also the one her mother used five months ago.”

“That’s awful.”

Thea shook her head. “How could she even touch it after that?”

“As for how she got the gun in, she confessed to bribing someone on the catering crew. Ziplocked in a baggie and floating in one of the big metal soup tureens.”

“Ew. I had the soup!” Thea put her half-finished desert down. 

Felicity savored another bite of chocolate mousse and when Thea side eyed her said, “What? I had the salad. Never mind that. But how did she get in? You had to show picture ID and an invitation and be on the guest list. And the staff needed authorized badges even to unload the catering vans.”

“Sometimes the most straightforward solutions work best. She walked in with the rest of the guests.”

“You’re kidding!”

“Wait. What? She had an invitation?”

“Daughter of the Captain that went down with Robert Queen. She didn’t even have to make a donation. Kord Industries had her at their table. Then sometime before the speeches started, she excused herself, slipped back into the kitchen, got her soup of the day, a catering uniform her bribe had also bought her and made a quick change.”

“Why bother if she could already mingle freely?”

“Per what she’s telling the police, original plan was to take the shot while in disguise, then change back into her clothes as a guest. They found the unused wig and a box of fancy make up. After Oliver’s impromptu speech, she changed her plan and decided to confront him on camera instead.”

“Speaking of which,” Thea said. “I saw the report aired on Channel 52.” She looked grim. “I could barely watch. I can’t imagine living it. I’m still shocked you survived. Have you seen it?”

“Yes,” Felicity said, feeling her temper rise. She could accept Channel 52, and probably by now national news as well, playing the dramatic bits over and over. .She had survived. That’s what mattered. But she was seething over how the segment ended. “How could they even speculate if Oliver really could have had anything to do with the sinking of the Gambit?” So much for Oliver’s charm offensive.

“That’s what you’re upset about?” Thea snorted. “People have been implying horrible stuff for years.”

Dig set his empty dessert plate down and frowned.

“What?” Felicity asked. “What aren’t you saying?” 

He looked at Thea and then seemed to come to a decision. “I guess you’ll hear soon enough anyway. Not long after Channel 52 aired its first report, seems they anonymously received what they are calling compelling evidence that appears to backup Carina Welrose’s claims of sabotage.” 

Felicity didn’t have to feign her shock. More than two years ago when the wreckage was stolen, she was sure no trace of any of it would ever be seen. 

“What kind of evidence?” Thea asked. She’d gone very still. 

Diggle shook his head. “The pictures she mentioned, they seem to have surfaced.”

A light went on in Felicity’s head. “That’s why it’s taking so long with Oliver. They’re seriously questioning him about this?” She was outraged. “Oliver had nothing to do with his father’s death.” She leapt to her feet, but Dig grabbed her wrist before she could go anywhere.

“Where you going?”

“To find Moira and get her to call in an army of lawyers if necessary.” She pulled Oliver’s black suit coat around her shoulders more securely. His scent still clung to it and made her feel bold. He might hate having his mother rescue him, but she didn’t care as long as he was safe.

In the end, lawyers—at least for now—turned out not to be necessary. She’d barely left her VIP section, with Thea trailing after, when John got notice through his ear piece. 

“Change of plans. Oliver’s free to go. We’re leaving.” Diggle relayed a few commands back to his security team and by the time they reached the elevator, Moira was there waiting. They picked up a severely silent Oliver on their way down and then took an express trip to the underground parking where several black SUV’s with heavily tinted windows waited to whisk them out of the building.

“I have my car here,” Felicity tried to protest.

Oliver shook his head and finally spoke. “Leave it for tonight.”

Instead of splitting up, they all squeezed in one SUV. She understood why when the SUV’s exited the garage. A barrage of flashing lights and reporters wielding microphones were waiting. When they passed the throng, news vans and other vehicles pulled out from the lot, clearly following them. The extra SUV’s provided a buffer around them. 

“How are we going to shake them?”

“We’re not,” Diggle answered. “The gates at the mansion will keep them out.”

“I thought I was going home.”

Oliver again shook his head. “They’d never leave you alone. Tonight, the mansion is the best option.”

She blanched at the idea of a swarm of reporters in her front lawn. It wasn’t ideal; she liked her own space; but the security at the mansion was welcome after tonight.

“It’s all arranged,” Moira briskly added. “Felicity will have the room she normally uses and Oliver, your old room is waiting.”

“Thank you.”

Oliver seemed strangely subdued. Masses of paparazzi or not, she was surprised how readily he agreed to staying even just for the night.

“So….are we all just going to pretend Carina didn’t announce to the world there’s proof dad’s yacht was sabotaged?” Thea asked. 

“I’m sure whatever ‘proof’ she produced will be shortly discredited,” Moira said. “The best thing to do is to ignore it until it passes by.”

Felicity caught Thea’s eye before she could protest and gave a short, negative shake of her head. They were getting into very dangerous territory. As it was, Moira was probably going to notice how very unsurprised her daughter seemed about the possibility her father had been murdered. She owed an explanation to both Thea and Tommy if only to keep them from asking their questions to the wrong people. 

Another shiver chased down her spine and she wrapped Oliver’s jacket around her body more tightly. A wave of weariness crashed over her. At least right now, they were all safe and together and with Oliver and Diggle on the watch, she could relax. She let the silence of the vehicle and the sounds of the road lull her into closing her eyes.

“Hey, we’re here,” Oliver said in a soft voice. Something lightly touched the side of her face. 

She blinked and awoke to Oliver’s face in the open car door and the glowing lights of the Queen mansion directly behind him. It was hard to read his expression in the shadows. Not too far behind him, Diggle was keeping watch. She looked around the SUV. It was empty. “Where—”

“Mom and Thea are already inside.”

“I fell asleep.” 

“I’m sorry I had to wake you.”

She fumbled to get her seatbelt off and then let him help her stand. She was feeling groggy and uncoordinated. 

“I can’t believe I fell asleep.”

Diggle leveled a sweeping glance down the drive, though with Oliver standing in front of her, she couldn’t see what he was looking at. He joined them by the car and gave her a smirk. “Car rides always put Sara out like a light too. Like magic.”

She scowled at him. “Did you just compare me to your nine month old?”

“If the drool fits.”

Her hand shot to check her thankfully drool-free mouth and she scowled again when she realized he was teasing. He and Oliver directed her toward the house. If not for the shouts that rang out, she might not have noticed the crowd of reporters and news vans now stationed at the end of the drive on the other side of the gates. And even though Oliver and Diggle stayed close, shadowing her so they likely blocked her from view, she had to resist the desire to pull Oliver’s tuxedo jacket up over her head.

“They’re not going to be gone in the morning, are they?”

Diggle answered. “Probably not.”

“We can’t hide out here forever.”

“One thing at a time.”

Inside, Marcus waited for them, taking Oliver’s jacket as if he was taking her cape. She stifled a protest. In the short time since Oliver wrapped his jacket around her shoulders, it had become like a security blanket. But she was a grown adult, not a child. 

“Sorry,” she said to Oliver. “I should have returned it earlier.” Though had she, she would no longer have had the chance to see the suspenders he wore underneath. Who knew she’d find suspenders hot? Learn something new every day. 

“Don’t,” he said. “I’m the one that should apologize. I almost got you killed.”

Something in his stoic tone and carefully controlled expression alarmed her. She reached out to touch his arm, but he flinched back from her, swinging quickly around to address John. 

“You still planning to walk the back gardens?”

John nodded. “I’ve got several good men here tonight, but I’d like to take another sweep before I head home.”

“I’d like to come with you.”

John studied him for a moment. He shrugged.

“Suit yourself. I’m heading out now.” He nodded at her and exited the way they’d just come in.

“Wait, Oliver,” she called out when he would have followed Diggle. “I wanted to talk to you.”

He paused, but only turned partially toward her, not meeting her gaze.

“Later. You should change, go back to sleep.”

“No, wait—”

“We can talk in the morning,” he said and then he too exited the front door.

“Miss?”

She turned back to see Marcus waiting for her.

“I can have something made up in the kitchen or from the bar you if you would like. Or I can have it sent up to your room.”

“No. That’s fine. Where are Thea and Mrs. Queen?”

“Both retired directly to their bedrooms.”

She didn’t blame them. At least they managed to stay awake the whole drive home.

When Marcus turned to lead her upstairs, she dismissed him.

“I’m ok Marcus. I know my way.”

“Yes, well, if there is anything you need, you only have to ask.”

“Thank you Marcus. Go to bed. I’ll be fine.”

He nodded, but as she started to turn away, he called her name. “Felicity. We’re all very glad you weren’t hurt tonight.”

A shiver went down her spine again at the reminder, but she thanked him again and they exchanged good nights. When she got to her room, she automatically glanced at the clock and did a double take. It was heading toward two in the morning. They’d let her sleep longer than she’d realized, which, as it turned out, was probably a good thing since after she took a shower and tried to lie down, sleep eluded her.

After a frustrating hour, she did what she’d done many other nights spent at the mansion. She put on the sporty red swimsuit she kept there, slipped on a robe, and snuck down to the soothing peace of the conservatory. 

The humid warmth that hit her the moment she entered the atrium was welcome after being cold all evening. She never bothered turning on the bright overhead lights, preferring just the low level glow of the mini torches illuminating the path. Light and shadows played in the heavy greenery before the path opened up to the pool. The underwater lights gave the space a sort of otherworldly glow. She shed her robe, kicked off her flip flops, and dove in.

She swam underwater as long as she could, letting the muffled silence and weightless feel calm her. She broke the surface and dived back down, the rush of displaced water a kind of muted roar punctuated by the occasional high musical note made from bubbles rising toward the surface. She switched to a regimented swim and for the next twenty minutes, did fast laps, trading her churning thoughts for the white water churned up with each kick or slicing stroke. 

When her muscles were loose, she flipped to her back and started a lazy backstroke, moving her hands up and out to the side before pulling them back parallel to her body, never leaving the water. With the surface tension broken, the water moving between her fingers felt soft and the tiny eddies created in the wake of her glide across the pool tickled the backs of her knees. 

She slowed her swim to a float, wafting her hands occasionally through the water and staring up through the domed glass ceiling, but staring at the sky wasn’t bringing her the kind of peace she’d been hoping for. Instead her mind replayed the night.

Carina turning the gun on her featured strongly, but she also kept replaying her time with Oliver on the rooftop, in his arms on the dance floor, and how gentle--though distant--he’d been when he woke her up after the ride home. They kept having moments. Moments that two weeks ago, she’d done a little freaking out about and maybe rightly so over how fast everything was happening with no clear picture of where things would end up. Tonight though, she’d come close to not being around long enough to find out. 

Life didn’t come with guarantees for tomorrow. Sometimes you had to be brave enough to push forward in spite of your fears. What fears were now eating at Oliver? He’d been pulling away since Carina’s attack, she could feel it. 

They should be discussing the biggest question of the night. How had Carina Welrose gotten pictures of the salvaged Queen’s Gambit? Two years ago, Josiah Hudson had been killed when he tried to move the wreckage. The ship, along with all proof of sabotage, vanished. She’d been certain it had been destroyed along with Hudson. Maybe it had, but only after someone had taken pictures. Or there was the less appealing thought…maybe Walter lied to her? Could he have kept the Gambit secreted somewhere? 

No, Walter’s shock the next day had been real. She doubted he would have told her anything about the Gambit if he hadn’t been so shaken by Hudson’s death. He had no reason to make up stories. He could have just as easily refused to talk about any of it. He had no reason to lie. But that still left Carina’s poof. 

Felicity didn’t have her computer, but through her phone, she had access to a number of customized programs, some she might never use but creating had made her feel a little less helpless in the face of closed doors. Tonight, one allowed her to peek at the evidence sent Channel 52 and it convinced her the pictures were authentic. The blast hole in the side of the Queen’s Gambit matched with the one emblazoned in her memory. Despite that, would anyone be able to prove they were real? And would it be better if they could or if they couldn’t? 

Oliver was innocent, but if the police believed the pictures were valid, of course they were going to at least look at Oliver’s involvement. The Queen family had a fleet of lawyers and, again, he was innocent, so that worried her less in the long run than where Carina got the pictures in the first place. 

Poking around and asking questions about Robert Queen’s activities leading up to his death just got a lot harder if the world found out he’d been murdered. Or maybe she was looking at this wrong. Maybe the new accusations could give Oliver just the opening he needed to…

Her thoughts stuttered to a stop. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something move by the chaise lounge furthest away from the lights. Something large. She wasn’t alone.


	19. Chapter 19

Felicity jerked upright, ending her back float and started treading water. She wasn’t imagining anything. Someone was out there in the shadows.

“Who’s there?!” She demanded. Fear made her voice sound higher, but anger kept it strong. 

A figure rose from the shadows and stepped forward.

“It’s only me. Oliver.”

Relief hit her, but her heart kept pounding. 

“You scared me to death! Stop doing that! Why were you hiding in the dark?” 

Oliver was still wearing the black tuxedo pants and white, button down shirt he’d worn for the gala, but he’d traded the gleaming wingtips for more practical footwear, lost the yummy suspenders, opened up his collar, abandoned his tie, and removed his cufflinks. 

He walked to the edge of the pool and crouched down. Felicity swam close and even though they were half way between the shallows and the deep end and the balls of her feet could just touch the bottom, she hung on to the cement side. With the pool lights reflecting upward, Oliver’s features were easy to see, but he was doing that impassive expression thing. 

“I was sitting here when you arrived,” he said.

“You were watching me the whole time?” She waited a beat and he said nothing making his non- answer, her answer. She should have been creeped out. Two weeks ago, she absolutely would have been. What did it say about her now, that she wasn’t? She found it odd behavior for Oliver to stay silent, but not creepy. Why? The answer quickly came. Because she trusted him. Something settled deep inside her.

Still, that didn’t mean she didn’t want answers.

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“I thought tonight, of all nights, you needed your swim. I didn’t want to get in the way.”

But he also didn’t leave. Oliver was in a contradictory mood tonight. 

“You’re not in the way. Why were you here?”

He lightly shrugged. “You said the conservatory was a good place to think.”

“There’s a difference between thinking and hiding in the dark, brooding.”

He remained silent, not giving a hint of what he was feeling. His emotionless look was getting on her nerves. 

“If you’re done swimming,” he finally said, “we should talk.”

She tipped her head further back, studying him more carefully, and then shook her head. She didn’t need to read his expression to know what he was going to say wasn’t what she wanted to hear. 

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Whatever it is you are going to say. You’re back to blaming yourself, aren’t you.”

He looked away. “I’m the one that almost got you killed. I put everyone in danger.”

“No, an unhinged woman who wrongfully blames you is to blame. You stopped her. You’re the hero in this.”

“If I hadn’t come back, she would never have threatened Mom and Thea, never would have come after you.”

“She came after us because of the lies people told. You didn’t do anything.”

When he nodded, she thought she was getting through to him. She was wrong. 

“And that’s my fault. I should have made it clear to everyone our relationship was strictly business. You were right about that. You were right about everything. The townhome, working from home, letting people make assumptions. It was all a mistake. My mistake,” he emphasized. 

His cold resolve was frightening her. 

“No. We both agreed to work together.”

“I pushed for more than our agreement even after you made it clear you weren’t interested,” Oliver said. 

“Don’t put words in my mouth. I asked for space from romantic complications because I was overwhelmed, not because I wasn’t interested. And did it ever occur to you that no matter where we worked, or lived, or what you denied, people were still going to make assumptions?”

“You’re right.”

Normally she loved hearing those words, but now they made her brace for disaster.

“I’m fooling myself. Nothing I say will be enough. Thea will have to understand. I need to leave Starling City, this time for good.” 

Oliver shifted his weight, getting ready to stand. Panic hit her. She reacted without thinking. Surging up from the water, she caught the front of Oliver’s shirt in each fist and then pushed with her feet backwards from the side of the pool. His center of gravity instantly destabilized and she yanked him in head first. Her quick refresher on weight to balance distribution after the last time she tried to push him in the pool had been time well spent. 

Oliver came to the surface sputtering mad, his white shirt translucent where it clung to his chest. 

“What the hell was that for?” He roared.

He was furious and she loved it. 

“How about for being an idiot?” 

“I’m not being—”

She cut him off with a splash.

“Leaving is the—”

Felicity did it again. Oliver flattened his mouth and calmly wiped his face with his hand.

“You are being childish.”

“Seemed fitting since only a child thinks running away is the answer. What did you just tell Thea?”

He scowled, no longer playing the stoic. “It’s my only option. Leaving is the only thing that will keep you safe.”

She hit the water, palms down, her frustration spiking. The sting on her hands felt cleansing. Physical outbursts were not normal for her, but it had been a trying night.

“Brood in the dark plotting to leave all you want, but don’t fool yourself. Leave or stay, I’m not safe. I haven’t been safe for years. And some of that’s out of my hands. But most of it is my choice. Mine. This is my life and I get to decide what I think is important. I get to decide what risks are worth taking.” 

And then she decided to take one.

Springing up on her tiptoes, she speared her hands into his wet hair, pulling his frowning mouth toward hers, and released all the hunger she’d built up over the last two weeks. His surprise lasted only seconds before he returned the kiss with equal intensity. Excitement and a clean feeling of power and triumph flushed though her system. This was what they both wanted.

His steely, muscled arms banded about her body and pulled her hard up against him, raising the kiss to a new level. Her heart pounded and her skin heated as if she’d just finished a hundred laps, but the kiss energized rather than drained. They broke apart, panting.

He caressed the side of her face and the corner of his mouth twitched. “You make a good point.”

She laughed. It had only been two weeks—Not even!—but she’d missed this like sunlight and air. Oliver rested his forehead against hers.

“If anything had happened to you because of me…I don’t know what I would have done.” 

Her breath caught in her throat. The raw emotion in his voice made her eyes prick with tears, but she corrected him.

“If anything had happened, it would have been because of her, not you, but nothing happened and you know why?” She cupped his face in her hands. “Because you were with me. This is Thea all over again. Staying away doesn’t protect me. If you want to help keep me safe, promise you won’t leave me. Stay in Starling City.”

Oliver went very still and Felicity flushed as she heard her plea. She dropped her hands.

“I don’t mean not leave me. I mean the investigation. I mean now,” she awkwardly tried to explain. “You’re leaving in two months, less than, which is fine, totally fine. Good even, I’m going to be busy with my startup then anyway. I just meant…”

“I know what you meant,” Oliver grumbled. 

Did he? Did she? 

Oliver was upset which made sense for someone that hadn’t wanted to make any plans about the future once he sold his company. Maybe that was part of why he’d wanted to leave now. Maybe he was already chaffing under the commitment he’d made to stay those two months. And here she was sticking her foot in it and sounding like she expected him to stay forever, but she knew better. No one stayed forever. At least not for her. Didn’t stop her from wishing it otherwise.

Wasn’t that the true reason she’d suggested they take a break from any romantic entanglements? Hadn’t she felt from the start the real danger he posed to her? They hadn’t yet crossed that line, but she already knew crossed or uncrossed, it was going to hurt to say goodbye. 

Part of it was simple chemistry, turned up to 11. She told herself her memory exaggerated the heat between them. But no, God, no. Even just standing in his arms was more intense now. _They_ were more now. Affection had been added to attraction and that tentative trust between them had grown to a sure measure of what kind of man she knew Oliver Queen to be.

So he only promised to stay for two months. And had just tried to run off sooner for her own good. She didn’t want to get hurt but no part of life came with guarantees. Hadn’t tonight proved that? Was she going to let fears about the future keep her from what she wanted now? And she wanted this. And she wanted him. So why were they wasting time talking when they could already be having sex?

“Damned if I know,” Oliver said and lowered his mouth to hers. 

***

Tightening his hold on Felicity’s sleek, supple body, Oliver slanted his mouth over hers. Hearing her blunt challenge just about drove all thoughts from his head. He knew Felicity well enough to know she’d spoken aloud unintentionally, but he was thrilled she had.

Here, now, with Felicity burning up in his arms, it was not where he’d expected to end the night. He’d deserved punishment, not pleasure. He’d experienced an agony he’d never known when Carina fired her gun at Felicity. It had been like all the guilt he’d ever carried concentrated in one terrifying moment. He didn’t know what his feelings signified, but in that moment, he’d have given up everything for Felicity to live, and when she did, he’d spent every moment since wondering what kind of payment deserved to be exacted. He’d brought the danger. He’d almost gotten her killed. Cold reason told him he should go.

Felicity guessed wrong. He had been brooding in the dark, but he hadn’t been counting up reasons to leave. All he’d wanted was enough excuses to overrule logic and let him keep her close. He’d gone to the conservatory rather than to his old bedroom because he hadn’t trusted himself to climb those stairs and walk past her door without knocking. Would she have let him in? The question no longer mattered. She’d made her choice and now he had all the reasons he needed.

He ran his hands across her back and down to cup her heart shaped ass. Compared to a bikini, the snug, red swimsuit was modest, but wet and molded to her body, it was the next best thing to naked. But why settle for the next best thing? He peeled one strap down her shoulder and then the other. 

“Oh, good idea.”

Felicity quickly slipped her arms free before winding them back around his neck and again kissing him deeply. He kept his concentration long enough to work her suit to her waist and then groaned, mind blown the feel of the hard points of her breasts pressing through his thin shirt. Losing control of the kiss, he backed Felicity up against the wall, cupped her suit clad bottom and ground against her, lifting her more fully against his raging erection. It was heaven and hell to have her half naked in his arms while he was still completely dressed. 

Felicity must have agreed. Her fingers quickly moved down the front of his shirt, releasing his buttons and pushing his shirt open so they could be skin against skin. There was a gasp and then another frenzied kiss. He couldn’t get close enough. He kissed down the column of her neck, to the dip in her collar bone and then to the gentle fullness of her breasts. She was the epitome of good things in small packages and sexy as hell. He tugged first one, then the other nipple into his mouth. She speared her fingers through his hair holding him in place, every gasp and stutter to her breath, music made for his ears. 

He returned to her lush mouth, already addicted to her taste, his hands roaming her body, wanting to touch all of her, learn all of her, even with her swimsuit still in the way. He treated it like a second skin and pet her through it until her hips began to jerk under his touch. 

They separated again, this time long enough for him to tug the stretchy suit off completely, leaving it to sink to the bottom of the pool. Pulling her back into his arms, he reached between them to finally touch her the way they both wanted. Hot and wetter than that water surrounding them, she clung to him while he explored inside and out, teasing the hard nub of flesh that drew her boldest cries. When she was on the edge, he added a second finger and moved his hand rapidly until he pushed her over the edge.

Head back, skin flushed and lost in rapture, she was even more beautiful than usual. Sagging forward, her head fell to his chest and he cuddled her close, taking calming breaths. He wanted more, but he wanted this as well. He could wait, even if it was killing him.

After a moment, Felicity stirred. Languidly, she moved one of her hands from his chest. He was still on edge, wishing he cared enough about baseball to be distracted, when suddenly her palm was there on the front of his pants, through the fabric layers, molded around his shape. He nearly went cross-eyed. He yanked her hand away before he lost control and she laughed. A husky, sensual sound that almost finished what her hand started. 

He kissed her hard. 

“Do you have any idea how sexy you are?” 

With her hair still slicked back from the water, Felicity looked up at him through her eyelashes and wet her lips. 

“I was trying to get a measure of it before you took my hand off your cock.”

He stifled a groan and swung her into his arms. Skinny dipping at the mansion, even lopsided skinny dipping, was a teenage fantasy come true, but he wanted more than playtime at the pool. 

Holding her tight to his chest, he walked them toward the shallow end where he could climb out without letting her go. She distracted him the whole time, curling into him, nibbling on his lips, rubbing her fingers against his thick stubble. He stubbed his toe on the bottom step, too mesmerized by her lips and eyes to realize he’d walked the length of the pool. He dropped a curse, but Felicity merely smiled against his mouth as she kissed him. He smiled back against her lips, pain forgotten. A different kind of warmth spread in his chest. It felt good to be with her. Good for all the reasons he expected and in so many ways he hadn’t.

With their mouths melded and her fingers massaging circles at the nape of his neck, he climbed out of the pool. It was a miracle he didn’t trip or stub his toe again. He could not tear his eyes from her. 

The sense of the moment and their connections was palpable.

With great care, he laid her down on the thick, fabric covered cushion of the nearest lounge chair. Felicity’s blonde hair, darkened from the water, fanned out beneath her. He leaned over her and reached down behind the lounger, feeling around for a lever. It was stuck, so he tugged harder and the lounger abruptly flattened. Felicity fell back with a soft bounce, laughing. 

“I never knew they could do that,” she said, smiling her siren’s smile while she propped herself up on her elbows. She stole his breath, her curves and smooth skin beckoning.

“It will be our secret,” he said, his voice low and hungry. 

Matching hunger flashed in her eyes and he was suddenly even more eager to strip out of his wet clothes. Her frank interest watching him undress and her lack of self-consciousness was unexpected from a woman that still blushed. Unexpected and incredibly hot. 

His dripping clothes slowed him down, doubling the time it should have taken to tug out the tails of his shirt and shed it. When he toed off his soggy shoes, they made squeaking sounds that made both of them smile, but he was quickly frustrated with his socks. When he went to pull them off, they clung to his foot, stretching without budging.

“Try rolling them down.” Felicity suggested with a smirk.

Her way had them off in seconds. 

He bent down and gave her a quick kiss and said, “You are a genius,” before continuing to undress. She laughed again, a free, happy sound that buoyed up his joy in the moment.

He made swift work of his zipper and then with a quick pause to fish an important something out of his pocket—a man always lives in hope—he pushed his trousers and boxers briefs down in one motion, leaving the wet clothing to puddle on the concrete. He tore the foil packet, took care of things and then lowered himself over her, her legs parting to make a place for him. 

He groaned at the elemental pleasure of finally being head to toe, skin to skin, soft curves and deep sighs. The heat they generated put the conservatory’s tropical temperature to shame. He rained kisses on her mouth, her jaw, her neck, while Felicity’s hands moved over his body, skimming around front to feel his lower abdomen jump beneath her gentle explorations before boldly taking hold of him in both palms and running her hands up and down his length. He shuddered under her touch, wanting it, but knowing he was already on the edge of control. 

“No,” he said, removing her hands. He was proud of managing to say more than a grunt. Felicity frowned severely until he repositioned himself and she realized he wasn’t slowing things down. “Another time,” he promised.

She reached for him eagerly as he leaned closer, bracing himself off her with one hand and using the other to guide the head of his throbbing cock teasingly through her folds. He groaned. She was hot and smooth and wet and impossible to resist. He again slid against her, notching the head inside and with a long, slow push, eased inside. Her breath stuttered as he filled her, her heat welcoming and clinging tightly. Their moans harmonized. Slowly, he pulled back and slid home again. The word fit. They fit. This was where he belonged. This was what he was meant to do.

The world fell away and there was only Felicity. Everything was now. There was no past or future, only the torrid, wet embrace of her body, the silk of her skin, the magic of her curves, the caress of her fingers, the heat of her breath and every seductive sigh of pleasure. 

He sunk into her, again and again, devouring her sweet cries falling from her lips. She wrapped herself around him tighter, her worshipful arms clasped around his neck.

How had he waited almost two weeks? How had he waited even a day? How would he ever walk away?

Even as the pressure of his building passion pushed him to race to the finish line, he wanted to slow down time. He wanted to gulp down every sensation but somehow savor every instant. He wanted all and more, everything and forever. 

The tiny pores on her nose. Her soft, pink lips. The tight lock of her thighs around his hips. The perspiration beading between her breasts. The sting of her nails denting his flesh. The rising flush on her skin.

He memorized it all even as his thoughts fragmented to only the most basic of commands. Deeper, faster, closer, more, more, more. He couldn’t be silent, couldn’t hold back much longer and when she tightened beneath him, sucking in a deep gasping breath before crying out, the deep claws of pleasure drew everything inside him up and spilled out in a hot wave of ecstasy. 

***

Boneless and content, Felicity gazed upward through the clear glass dome of the conservatory. A small chuckle rumbled through her chest. Her little trip to the pool had worked its customary magic, though this time, the wonder she’d experienced hadn’t come from stargazing. This time, she touched those stars before fragmenting and drifting down to earth like the cascade of sparks after fireworks filled the sky. 

Shortly afterwards, Oliver had shifted them around on the lounge so he was on bottom and she was half sprawled on top of him. While he slept, his chest made a surprisingly comfortable pillow. She studied his resting face. His stubble was heavier than she was used to seeing but that didn’t detract from his beauty. His dark eyelashes fanned softly against his cheeks. His soft, clever lips were a lovely pink contrast next to the day’s growth that accentuated his strong jawline.

And then there were the miles of golden skin covering gorgeously defined muscles everywhere she looked and touched. He wasn’t wasting his time at the gym. Yes, Oliver Queen was a very pretty man. 

“I’m not pretty,” he grumbled, not opening his eyes.

She laughed and pressed a kiss to his chest. This time her words had nothing to do with her lack of filter. “Would you prefer beautiful?”

“I’d prefer you were still asleep because then I would still be asleep.”

“And miss such a pretty—I mean beautiful sight to see?”

His arms tightened around her and a bone popping yawn stretched his jaw.

“You only napped in the SUV for an extra hour. How are you this wide awake?”

“Maybe I’m afraid if I close my eyes, when I open them, you’ll be gone.” Oliver tensed beneath her and she realized she was holding her breath and the thing she’d intended it as a joke wasn’t funny anymore.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

She sat up, suddenly self-conscious about her nudity and everything. Crossing her arms across her chest, she shrugged. 

“We, um, never exactly pinned down if you’d changed your mind or not about staying. I mean staying for the rest of your two months,” she rushed to add before he said anything. Sex wasn’t a promise, no matter how great. “Not staying, staying,” she babbled on. “I mean, of course our deal was only for two months, but you’re here now. Only, are you here, here or only here now?” She shook her head and closed her eyes. “Ok, I just heard that and it makes no sense and…”

Oliver rose up to silence her with a kiss.

“I’m here, here.” He brushed back her stiffly drying hair and looked steadily into her eyes. “We started this. We’ll finish this. Partners.”

“Partners,” she agreed and then bit her lower lip. “Since we’re getting specific, should I consider this,” she gestured between them, “a one-off thing or ….” She shrugged. “You mentioned ‘next time’ but it was kind of in the heat of the moment so….”

“This is definitely not a one-off thing.” He eased her back down, turning them on the lounger so she was once more beneath him. He kissed down the length of her throat. 

She hummed in pleasure and linked her arms around his neck, his weight and heat a welcome distraction from her pointless anxiety. 

“I think I can get on that page,” she said, lightly tracing her nails along the contours of his shoulders and back.

“Good,” he grunted.

“Everyone in my life keeps telling me I need to have a fling.” She paused in her explorations. “Did I tell you Thea even gave me permission to use you to end my dry spell?”

“So I’ve heard,” he said, sounding disgruntled. “Can we establish a rule where you don’t bring up my family when we are…”

“Oops, sorry. Though if we’re doing rules, I have one of my own.”

Oliver must have heard the earnestness of her tone. He stopped the marvelous thing he was doing with his mouth and backed off, bracing his weight on his outstretched arms. “Let’s hear it.”

“I know this is just a casual fling, but while we are having this fling, I expect that there would be no…side flinging with anyone else.” She was trying to live in the moment, but she didn’t have much—ok, any—experience going into any relationship with an end date already in mind. Still, for the time they were together, she expected a certain level of respect. No, Oliver wasn’t the same careless playboy he’d once been, but it didn’t hurt to be clear. Oliver considered what she said. He didn’t look offended, but he didn’t look completely at ease either. 

“So casual, but exclusive.”

“Exactly. If it’s not working or someone else catches your eye before you leave in two months, you let me know and then move on. No fuss,” she quickly reassured him even while the barest thought of him turning to another sent sharp pangs to her stomach. She pushed that feeling down. Her reasons for dragging him back to Starling City were bigger than whatever they did up close and personal. She needed to be practical. 

“We have to be able to trust each other and work with each other for this partnership to survive,” she said. “If that’s going to be a problem, then maybe we’d be better off leaving it at a one-off thing.”

Oliver caressed the side of her face. 

“As long as the same rule applies to you, it’s not a problem.”

“Of course!”

“Good.” He slowly lowered his body back to hers. “Then maybe we can put to rest right now any thought of this being a one-time thing.” 

Immediately, Oliver returned to nibbling on the length of her neck. God, he was good at that. She was all in favor of round two, but before she could do more than tilt her head back and sink her fingers into his hair, the overhead lights came on. She froze, clutching at Oliver. “Somebody’s coming.” The words came out in a breathy rush. 

“Soon. Very soon,” Oliver promised. 

“No, no!” She pushed at his shoulders to get his attention. “The lights! Somebody turned on the lights!”

That seemed to cut through Oliver’s haze. Or maybe it was the man’s voice calling out, “Security sweep. Is everything ok in here?”

Felicity spotted the guard coming from the path from outside and hid her heated face against Oliver’s neck, too mortified to speak. She heard Oliver curse under his breath. It was too late to scramble for a pillow or a towel and with Oliver’s clothes strewn around the pool deck, there was no hiding what they’d been up to anyway. Oliver kept her shielded beneath his body, leaving his gluteus maximus, maximally exposed. 

“Everything’s fine here.” Oliver growled. “You can be on your way.”

“Ma’am, are you ok? Do you need assistance?”

Mortified as she was, she had to give him credit for asking.

“I’m fine,” she squeaked. “Thank you.”

From the sound of the man’s feet against the cement, it sounded like he was turning around, but before he could retreat too far, Oliver called out.

“There’s no need to mention what you saw to Mrs. Queen.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Mr. Queen.” Thirty seconds later, the overhead lights turned off. 

Not taking any chances, Felicity cautiously lifted her head. They seemed alone.

“Now where was I?” Oliver returned to what he’d been doing which under any other circumstance would have been extremely distracting; even under these circumstances she was tempted, but she hissed at him to stop anyway. “What’s wrong?” Oliver asked.

“What’s wrong? For one, you do know that guard absolutely will tell your mom exactly what he saw, right?”

Oliver cursed under his breath again.

“And if that’s not enough to kill the mood, that is.” She pointed up to the dome and the lightening sky. It was still predawn, but it was no longer dark out. “The kitchen staff will be arriving soon. We need to go. Now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hee! Finally earned that M rating. ;D


	20. Chapter 20

Oliver drew in a breath and smiled, enjoying Felicity’s soft blush as she glanced back at him one last time before she slipped into her room and closed the door. Despite her insistence he didn’t need to— and even shouldn’t—walk her to her room, she hadn’t rushed off alone even though she’d had her robe and flip flops on in less than ten seconds. 

In the silent, upstairs hallway, he hadn’t been able to resist pulling her to him for one last, toe curling kiss. No exaggeration involved; his toes had in fact curled into the carpet. Damn, she affected him. When they touched, she melted into him with a kind of surrender that made _him_ want to wave the white flag. Only the bruised smudges beneath her eyes had him willing to walk away to his room across the hall. She needed more rest and if he followed her into that bedroom, neither of them would get any. 

Still, as far as rain checks went, he had no complaints and all kinds of hopes of cashing it as soon as possible. Despite round two being interrupted, he felt good and that had everything to do with Felicity. The sex had been phenomenal but there was something more about Felicity that drew him to her on another level. 

Brilliant, kind, loyal, generous, and fiercely brave, she brought out all his protective instincts even as he admired her independence and determination. He also appreciated her willingness to call him on his bullshit. And while she teased occasionally about his past, never with the sort of condescending judgment he’d come to expect even from himself. At the same time, she was clear what treatment she would not accept. And that included him leaving her for her own safety. So he would stay and fight beside her, whatever came next. 

The knee jerk instinct to put distance between her and his mistakes was still there, but their relationship had shifted. He couldn’t walk away now. Not while there was any possible danger. She was willing to accept whatever dubious protection he could offer for the next two months at least. Or had she started the countdown clock from the date of his arrival? He frowned.

Technically, she still wasn’t his type. Yes, beautiful and beyond smart, and she could when called upon play the part of the cool sophisticate, but she was anything but reserved. She went into life with her heart wide open. She was far too involved with his family. Her work would always be a big priority. And her commitment to the Glades and the city made it impossible for him to imagine her leaving Starling City. 

However much he enjoyed spending time with Felicity, he couldn’t assume their connection was the kind of something more he was looking for, especially since she’d made it painfully clear she already had one foot out the door. 

Even knowing all that, every time the word fling passed Felicity’s lips, he’d ground his teeth. Being only a temporary diversion to her was galling. And given his past and how he’d treated women, he was deeply aware of the irony. 

Felicity was chomping at the bit to start her real future; that damned company she was going to pour her heart into. Immediately, Alexandria Freitas and what Felicity and Curtis did popped into his mind; he let out a guilty sigh. His resentment against her company was ridiculous. She’d lived up to her promises and more. And he wasn’t even going to be there when her company became her focus, a company that might honestly change the world. Felicity _should_ be excited and proud and looking forward to her future. So why did thinking about it leave him so aggravated? 

He closed the door on that train of thought; he was wasting his time worrying about the future. Two months—and dammit, he would hold her to the entire two months—was still a long time. Longer than he’d planned out any relationship in the last eight years. Immediate threats were all he should be thinking about. 

A huge yawn caught him by surprise. He’d catch a few hours of sleep and then when his head was clear, pick up planning how to make sure nothing like last night ever happened again. The someone pointing a gun at Felicity part, not the hot sex by the pool part. He shook his head and finally turned away from her door; he must be more tired than he realized if he was starting to think in Felicity-like babble. 

He shifted the wet bundle he carried to his other arm. His dripping shoes and soggy clothing soaked unpleasantly through the cotton robe Felicity found for him in the conservatory to wear. When he’d lived at the mansion, they’d only kept spare towels near the pool. He could have been making this walk of shame in just a towel wrapped around his waist, so he should be grateful to have even a wet robe as he snuck back to his room. He shook his head again. 

Thirty years old and sneaking into his bedroom. What a time warp. 

The room he was returning to, preserved just as he’d left it more than 8 years ago, didn’t help the feeling. The muted blues and greys still appealed even if the marine theme did not. But far more than the décor, it was remembering who he’d been when he lived in that room that haunted him. At least now he was pleasantly exhausted enough that once he laid down, comparisons to the past shouldn’t keep him awake.

As his hand touched the door handle, a quiet, but clear voice rang out.

“Oliver, I’d like to speak to you for a moment.”

His mother’s voice raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Busted. 

He pivoted back to her. Even in her silver-brocade dressing gown with her makeup off, his mother remained every bit of the formidable woman he remembered, wearing the same disappointed frown she’d always worn when she caught him slinking in around dawn. The feeling might be the same, but he was an adult. He had no reason to be embarrassed. 

“Here,” Moira held out something and he automatically took it. “I’ll trust you can get this back to our Miss Smoak.”

He looked down at the silky red nylon thing in his hand. Felicity’s swimsuit. He felt his ears go hot even if he managed to keep the rest of his face blank. They’d forgotten to retrieve it from the deep end of the pool. For it to get to Moira’s hands quicker than it took for him to say goodnight to Felicity, it meant the guard must have returned to the conservatory as soon as they left and ratted them out to his mother even sooner. He added Felicity’s damp suit to the pile of clothing he was carrying. 

“Thank you. I’ll do that.” He turned to go inside, but he wasn’t getting away that quickly.

“I don’t approve of what you are doing.”

He turned and gave her a tight smile. “I don’t recall asking for approval.”

“Felicity doesn’t deserve to be used by you like this.”

“How am I using her, Mother?”

“You took advantage when she was vulnerable. Anyone would be traumatized by what she went through last night. And while Felicity might be a genius, she is far more sheltered than you think. She came to us five years ago straight from MIT, barely twenty, and absurdly over-qualified for the IT department where she spent years quietly keeping her head down, working evenings and weekends, attracting no attention despite her devotion to the work. I seriously doubt that girl is equipped to deal with….” Moira paused and frowned, not finishing her sentence. 

“Me, mother?” he asked softly, trying to hold back his indignation. “Was that what you were going to say? What kind of predator do you think I am?” 

“Don’t be absurd. But you’ve never shown a tendency toward real commitment and I don’t want to see her hurt by this family any more than she already has been.” 

“How else has she been hurt? I’ve only been back for two weeks. What did you do to her?”

“You and your sister have such a tendency toward drama. I was speaking of the unfortunate incident at the gala. She’s been a valued employee and above that, a good friend to this family. It isn’t right that she should be negatively impacted by a private matter.”

“A private matter? Is that what we are calling fallout from Dad’s murder?” 

His mother didn’t so much as twitch. “The only one calling it murder is that disturbed woman. No one will take her rants seriously.”

“The police are taking the evidence sent to Channel 52 seriously.”

“Photographs can easily be manipulated. I’m sure whatever proof she’s concocted will shortly be discredited.”

“Is that because you’re that deep in denial or have you already made arrangements to make certain of the fact?”

“That is an outrageous accusation.”

“Which one?”

Moira thinned her lips but didn’t answer.

“You can stop pretending, Mother. I don’t know if the pictures they have are real or fake, new or old, but I know Dad didn’t die by accident. It was sabotage and I know you know because you had the Gambit salvaged,” he growled, “and sitting in a warehouse right here in Starling City.” 

His mother paled. Her hand clutched at the front of her robe. “Who…how?” The questions slipped out before she regained her composure. 

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter who told me. Where did you take it? Did you move it to a new warehouse here in Starling or did you destroy it after you had Josiah Hudson killed?”

Moira’s spine went ramrod stiff. “I had nothing to do with Mr. Hudson’s tragic accident no matter what nonsense Walter has been feeding you.”

She was watching him carefully, looking for him to give away a tell to confirm her guess. He gave it to her. Better she assumed his information came from anyone than Felicity. He knew better than anyone how viciously his mother might lash out if she felt backed into a corner. He looked away from her probing eyes as if she’d seen too much.

“It doesn’t matter who told me. What matters is that I know. And I know about the book. Tell me about the names on the list.”

For the first time, real alarm flashed in her eyes. “You have no idea what you are getting into. Let it go, Oliver. For your own sake, as well as those around you, let it go.”

She turned and swept down the hall toward her room. He watched her vanish around the corner. 

He didn’t know which left him more unsettled, seeing his mother afraid or that she’s stopped trying to deny knowing anything. Walter had given him a very similar warning, but even if he’d wanted to let his father’s murderer get away, the attention Carina Welrose brought made ignoring the past near impossible. 

He yanked open his bedroom door. He walked in, tossed the pile of wet clothing on the ground and angrily stripped off the robe. He’d known his mother was a part of this. He’d know and never shied away from the truth. But confirmation made him want to shout or tear the room apart. He did neither but instead of showering and catching a few hours of sleep, he changed clothes and went down to the home gym.

The weight and the cardio machines were new and a yoga studio had been added but he still found his way around. He hit the weights first, piling them on and going through reps until all his muscles burned. He spent another couple hours on the treadmill running, increasing the speed and incline to a punishing pace. Every drop of sweat was like a drop of poison leached from his soul. When he stepped off, his legs were shaky, but he had his rage back under control. 

As much as he pushed his body, he still wasn’t close to being able to sleep. Since it was late enough that people were likely getting up, he returned to his room, showered, changed into jeans and a dark green Henley and went down to the kitchen. Coffee would be a critical component of the rest of his day.

*** 

At a quarter to eleven, Felicity found she was the last one to come down for breakfast. She entered and one glance at the studied manner in which Moira avoided looking at Oliver told her his mother knew far too much about their sexcapades. Felicity expected to be included in Moira’s frosty reception but instead, while Oliver was frozen out in Siberia, Moira warmly greeted her, rising from her place at the head of the table and kissing her on the cheek. And not just a hovered air peck. 

“Felicity, dear, how are you feeling? Forgive me for not staying up and seeing you settled for the night myself.”

Was that a subtle dig about her late night activities? She played it cool. “No, that’s fine, Marcus sorted me out. I’m sure everyone was exhausted.” If it had been a sly reference, thankfully it was Moira’s only one before stepping briefly outside the room to confer with a member of her staff. Felicity took in the room.

Breakfast in the Queen household normally was a casual affair but given the extra guests, the kitchen staff had shooed her out and sent her to the formal dining room where a sideboard full of food was available for their own private bunch. 

Oliver sat on the opposite end of the table from where his mother held court, an empty plate in front of him waiting to be cleared, sipping his coffee. Their eyes met and it was all it took for her to catch fire. For a moment, she was back there, next to the pool, breathing in the thick air, his skin pressed to hers, them moving in unison toward the ultimate goal. Thea’s voice cut through her lust fueled haze.

“You were zonked, that’s for sure,” Thea said, spreading jam on half of an English muffin. “You were out before we left the city and didn’t budge when we got home, not even with all the paparazzi at the gate.” 

“They were still there when I woke up.”

“And in case anyone is wondering, they are still out there.”

“Tommy!” Thea exclaimed.

Moira returned and gave Tommy an equally warm greeting, urging him and Felicity to make a plate and join them.

“Don’t mind if I do. Ladies first.”

“No, go ahead, I’m not sure if I want anything more than coffee and juice.”

He grabbed a plate and started piling on bacon and sausage. “It’s not just local news out there either. I saw a couple cable news vans too.”

“I’ll be making a statement on behalf of the family. That should appease them.”

“Will that be enough?” Thea asked her mom. “I mean, I have a job tonight. I was supposed to go over the new DJ’s playlist this afternoon.”

“Perhaps quitting is for the best.”

“I never said I was going to bail. It’s just I wanted Felicity and Oliver to be there. I don’t see how any of it’s possible if the press is going to hound us at the club.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Tommy said, adding toast on top of his pile of scrambled eggs. “That’s what security is for. If the news crews or paparazzi want to camp outside at Verdant, I don’t care. Hell, they can come in and join the party as long as they leave the cameras outside.” 

“So you’ll still be there?” Thea directed her question to Felicity as she sat next to her, but Thea’s hope filled eyes specifically glanced down at the end of the table at her brother. Felicity held her breath. She thought she knew what his answer would be, but he and Thea’s reconciliation was still so new and the mess at the gala might have changed something. 

Oliver looked up from his phone, met Thea’s worried stare and simply said. “We’ll be there.” Warmth spread through Felicity. 

Marcus entered the dining room and bent to speak to Moira quietly. She nodded. “Yes, please, show him to my office. I’ll join him shortly.”

“Who is here?” Oliver asked. Moira ignored him while she finished her coffee.

“Who was Marcus talking about?” Thea asked, maybe out of solidarity but most likely because she was curious as well. Oliver pointedly sighed in annoyance when his mother readily answered her daughter. 

“Last night Walter was gracious enough to handle a few loose ends with the gala. I assume he stopped by so we could go over them.”

Marcus returned, hesitating in the doorway this time. Five pairs of curious eyes fixed on him.

“Yes, Marcus, what is it?”

He hurried over to Moira and, once again, bent to speak privately in her ear. She frowned and then nodded. “I’ll let him know.” 

“Yes, Madame.” 

Moira reached for the coffee pot and topped off her cup. “Oliver, it seems Walter would first like to speak privately for a moment with you.” She smiled an unpleasant smile. “I can’t imagine what he’d have left to say.” 

Oliver rose from the table and exited the room without dropping any clues to what his mother meant. Moira changed her mind about more coffee, pushing the cup back from her place and rising as well. “Excuse me. I have other matters to attend.” 

The moment she left, Thea immediately scooted her chair closer to Felicity’s and leaned in. “What’s up with Mom and Oliver? Did something happen between them? They weren’t exactly chatty on the ride home, but they were at least speaking to each other.”

Felicity paused with her juice glass half raised to her mouth and shook her head. “I didn’t see Oliver or your mom after I went to bed.” That was the truth. Well, the second time she went to bed at least.

“She’s been weird all morning. You should have heard her freaking out about having the pool cleaned.”

Felicity choked and spit out some of her orange juice. 

“You ok?”

“Fine, just wrong pipes, you know.” Oh, yeah, Moira absolutely knew. 

“Maybe,” Tommy suggested, “it’s because of what the press are saying about last night.”

“What could they be saying that they haven’t already said the last eight years?” Thea asked. “I thought Channel 52 agreed not to air their evidence until the police authenticated the photos.”

“That may have been what the police and your mom’s lawyers wanted, but they’ve been running promos all morning about finding out the truth behind the sinking of the Queen’s Gambit.”

“Speaking of which,” Thea leaned in and whispered. “When are we getting the truth behind my father’s messages?”

“And not to be a selfish ass,” Tommy added. “You also said you would do some digging about my partnership deal. You know, my last hope at saving the club? I’m doing my best to stay Zen, but I think I’m starting to lose it.”

“What happened?” Thea asked. 

He shrugged in a practiced manner. “Oh, nothing much. Hearing voices. Seeing shadows. No big.”

“Ghosts?” Her eyes lit up.

“I’m thinking nightmares and sleep deprivation. Nature’s bonus in stressful situations. You know.”

“I’m so sorry Tommy,” Felicity apologized. “With everything that happened, I never finished running the search.” She shook her head. “I need my laptop for that. As soon as I can get home, I’ll get on it.” If the press was too heavy to shake, maybe she could get someone else to pick it up? Or in a pinch borrow someone else’s. She had all her programs backed up on one of her own personal servers in a secured location. If forced to, she could reinstall what she needed, but she’d prefer her custom equipment. 

“What about my dad?” Thea asked

“I need you to be patient for a little while longer. It’s not a quick story and I’d rather not get into it unless I know for certain no one else is listening.”

“There’s got to be something you can tell me now. We waited long enough.”

“Anything I say is just going to lead to more questions but,” she threw in to forestall the objection forming on Thea’s tongue, “I’ll tell you this, I think the pictures Channel 52 has are real.”

“What? How can you know that?”

“That’s part of what I don’t want to get into here.”

“Then when?” Thea demanded, “I have to leave for the club soon. I don’t want to wait another 24 hours.”

“I’ve got a suggestion,” Tommy said. “What if you and I head to the club and then Felicity can swing by her place, grab her laptop, and bring it by. Your meeting with the DJ will be over by then and it will be just us until the bartenders show up for set up. Kill a flock of birds with a stone or something like that.”

It wasn’t the worst plan. Thea agreed and Felicity nodded. “I don’t have my car yet, but I’ll figure out a way to make it happen.” 

*** 

“Walter.” Oliver shook the older man’s hand. “After last night, I didn’t expect you to want to talk to me again.”

“It is precisely because of last night’s events that I do.” He held out a cloth wrapped package.

“Is this the…?” Even before he unwrapped the bundle, he could tell from the weight and shape he was holding a small book.

“Yes. I may wish I never found the accursed thing, but you are right. Your return has already stirred up too many variables. I cannot justify sitting with my head buried in the sand.”

Oliver slipped it into his pocket and made certain the loose material of his shirt concealed any signs of it.

“You don’t believe Carina Welrose acted on her own, do you,” he stated.

“Frankly, I do not know, but the possibility has crossed my mind. I’ve heard about the images she provided as proof. From descriptions, they could very well be authentic and if they are, it means someone else wants the secrets of the past exposed.”

“And you think it’s someone in this book?”

“I don’t know, but it’s the only lead I have to offer.”

“By why give it to me if you know I’m also looking to expose answers?”

“I’m trusting that you will be the scalpel to the public hatchet I fear now might be employed. Please emphasize to Ms. Smoak the need to be excruciatingly careful.” He frowned. “Or maybe I presume too much. Is there any hope she might not choose to take interest in the topic this time around?”

“If anything, she’s more determined.”

“I’m not surprised. She is a remarkable young woman. It distressed me for a long time after I realized in what I had involved her.”

Oliver frowned. Something in how he phrased his regret didn’t sound right. Past tense. As if, he’d reached a point where he was no longer distressed. Walter was an honorable man. Oliver couldn’t see time lessening whatever guilt he had over pulling Felicity into this dangerous life. He also doubted Walter realized just how stubborn Felicity could be when it came to solving mysteries. 

For some reason, the comment his mom made earlier came to mind, about not wishing to cause Felicity any more harm than they already had. His mom shrugged it off, saying she meant what happened at the gala, but that wasn’t how he’d taken it at first. 

And he’d always wondered why Felicity had been drawn into the bosom of the Queen family. What Felicity had done for Thea would have warranted some kind of reward, but what made Felicity being yanked from what she’d been trained for and turned into a pseudo sober companion for Thea a reward? That move was especially puzzling when the IT supervisor position she was clearly qualified for had opened nearly at the same time that Felicity saved Thea. Opened up because her boss quit and then died in a suspicious hit and run accident that Felicity suspected had been fallout for her early involvement with the list. 

“There’s something you’re not telling me about Felicity’s involvement in this.”

Walter went still. Then he studied him carefully. “You’re father had that same ability. A level of intuitiveness that cannot be taught.”

“You’re not answering my question.”

“I didn’t realize there was a need.”

“I need to know of anything that could put Felicity in danger.”

“I wouldn’t concern yourself with ghosts.” 

“Are you saying, the one that was a danger to Felicity is dead?”

“I’m saying concentrate on avoiding the current monsters walking in the sunlight.”

“Is that who is in here?” He touched his pocket. “Is that who is on the list?”

“All of us have the capacity for good or evil. Some on the list are good men and women that made terrible mistakes and those mistakes were leveraged against them. Others were brought into the fold because they lived in the dark and had useful connections. Then there are the monsters hiding in plain sight, waiting for a chance to shed their disguise.” 

“Instead of riddles, why don’t you just tell me what you really know?”

Walter shook his head. “What I know is in the past. It wasn’t a perfect solution and I had no direct hand in it, but I too pay the price of learning to live with it. There are some that if they knew, likely would take far more direct objection. I fear they are the ones behind Ms. Welrose’s attack.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I fear what came before is in danger of coming again.” 

“Then tell me what that was so I can stop it.”

Walter shook his head. “I have no stomach for this business. I may well be wrong. I won’t expose the past on a feeling, but someone apart from you is stirring up the past and someone on or connected to this list most likely is who you are looking for. I’ll leave you to it.”

Oliver considered calling Walter back and warning him Moira believed he’d told him about the Gambit but let him go instead. Would his mother expect anything but denials from Walter even if he had warned him? Despite Walter refusing to tell him everything—or really anything—that intuition he supposedly shared with his father told him Walter Steele wouldn’t tell Moira Felicity was Oliver’s source any more than he would spill the other secrets he was so clearly keeping. 

Despite Walter’s cryptic answers, triumph surged through him. He’d try to repeat back what Walter had said, maybe something in his doublespeak would mean something to Felicity, but even if his riddles remained unsolved, they had the complete list. That was a victory. He returned to the dining room.

“Where’s Mom?” he asked Thea.

“Who knows? What did Walter want?”

Oliver shook his head. “Not here.”

Thea rolled her eyes. “This again.”

“I told them we’ll meet at Verdant to talk as soon as we can get a ride home to pick up my computer,” Felicity explained. “I heard from Diggle. He had our vehicles dropped there this morning.”

“Good.” Oliver pointed at Tommy. “Are you driving the Honda?”

“And here I thought we could be friends again. It’s unkind of you to rub it in.”

“No, it’s a good thing. We’d never all fit in the Jag.”

“At least in the Jag I might have had a chance on losing the camera mafia. Look, I’d be happy to give you guys a ride, but Thea is a small fish compared to the two of you and I still was going to wait until after Moira made her statement before we tried to leave.”

“No, you and Thea leave before. They won’t follow for fear of missing what Mom has to say.”

“I thought you guys wanted a ride?”

“Swing by the east end of the estate.” As much as it pained him to be sneaking around at 30, decades of practice made him an expert. 

“Now that brings back memories. How long has it been since we used the east gate? That has to be pre driver’s license.”

“Felicity and I will cut through the gardens and then through the woods. I took a look last night. Still passcoded from the outside but opens easily from inside the estate.”

“Ha!” Tommy barked. “Remember the time your dad reset the code and we had to steal a neighbor’s ladder to get in? Didn’t get busted for breaking curfew but did for the ladder.” 

Thea waved away Tommy’s trip down memory lane. “Ok, that’s settled, but does anyone know when Mom is making her statement?”

Felicity tapped the screen of her phone and held it up. “Twenty minutes guys.” 

*** 

Felicity patiently, ok, impatiently, waited until she and Oliver were in the gardens on their way to the east gate before asking him the question tearing up her curiosity since Walter’s arrival was announced.

“Ok, where is it? Tell me Walter gave you the book.”

“My pocket. How’d you know?”

“After last night, I was hoping he’d have a change of heart. Did he you tell you anything?”

“Some cryptic stuff about monsters shedding their disguise, the past having an imperfect solution and that if some on the list found out about the past, they might still take action.” 

“What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure. He talked too about not worrying about ghosts.”

“As in the dead?”

“That’s where my mind went. For some reason, I thought of your old supervisor. What was his name?”

“Derek Kaplan.”

“I wonder if the imperfect solution had anything to do with Kaplan. Walter mentioned worrying about you in the past, like the problem had been solved, but he was still hoping to protect you from the other monsters on the list. Mom seemed concerned about you as well.” He shook his head, “Maybe I’m reading too much into it. It’s reasonable they’d want you safe.”

“You think they set up my boss to take my fall? That he wasn’t blamed by accident?” Did that make it better or worse? How much about her digging for Walter would Moira know? Looking into Moira’s supposed embezzlement which led to the warehouse address most likely, though not that she’d seen the contents inside. She couldn't imagine Waler deliberately targeting an innocent man...unless Walter passively stood back and let Kaplan take the fall without stopping it? 

“It’s all guesses.”

Trying to think past her own guilt, she added another guess to the pile. “If I believe Malcolm was the one pulling all the strings include the ones that had Kaplan permanently shut up, and I do, then maybe the imperfect solution was bigger in scale and was referring to Malcolm’s death by the Triad?”

“He said not to worry about ghosts. You could be right.”

“Did Mr. Steele say anything else?”

“Not about that but Walter thinks someone on the list probably put Carina Welrose up to last night’s stunt.”

She stopped walking. She hadn’t considered that. “Like she was set up as a patsy?” Like Kaplan had been set up to be hers? Again she squashed the guilt that wanted to swamp her. Finding answers was more important right now. She’d have a lifetime to live with the guilt. She struggled to return to the topic. “Why would anyone want Carina to kill me? There’s no way anyone on the list could connect me to my extracurricular activities. I told you, I have been very…”

“Very careful, so you’ve said.” He shook his head. “No, I don’t think they set her after you. I think I was the one that she was supposed to target.” 

They started walking again. 

“If she was contacted, what are the odds she’d know who was contacting her?”

Oliver shook his head. “I don’t know. If they knew she was unstable and blamed me, sending proof and a mention where I would be might have been all they needed to push her over the edge.”

“Whoever ‘they’ is.”

Oliver nodded. “If she’d gone for straight revenge and succeed, I’m silenced. Fail and the ‘proof’ leaked muddies the waters. They control the waves set in motion.”

A thought suddenly had Felicity feeling more optimistic. “Which means, you have proof your mom is not involved in this.”

“How do you figure?”

“Carina targeted your Mom and Thea. Your mom would never put you or your sister in the crosshairs of a maniac. Plus the pictures of the Gambit threaten to expose her part in covering up the explosion since she had it salvaged. Why would she risk that attention just to make waves for you?” 

“I’m sure she’d have her reasons.”

Felicity held onto her patience as they walked across the lawn toward the grove of trees that edged the estate.

“You are being obstinate. She’s not the only one we should look at. Moira didn’t go out in the middle of the North China Sea and bring up the Gambit all on her own. She had help. Someone else out there knows she had it salvaged.”

“Assuming they weren’t already silenced in a hit and run accident.”

“Believe me, I’ve been looking. That sort of incident would have actually helped me track down who salvaged the ship. There’s nothing like that. No,” she shook her head, “releasing pictures of the salvaged Gambit isn’t something your mom would sanction. Moira Queen wouldn’t purposely invite that kind of scrutiny. She’s too smart.”

“Ok,” Oliver conceded. “It’s unlikely she was a part of what happened at the gala.”

“Thank you.”

“But I confronted her about the Gambit. And she knows about the list.”

Felicity stopped walking again. They were nearly to the wooded area. “What?”

“I kept you out of it, but I told her I knew she’d salvaged the ship. And I told her I knew it hadn’t been an accident.”

“When did this happen?”

“This morning, before I got back to my room.”

“In the hallway? Right after…you don’t think she saw us, um...outside my door before I went in my room?”

“Do you really want me to answer that question?”

“No, no. You’re right. Let me cling to denial a little bit longer.” She started moving again, walking a little faster. Maybe she’d feel less exposed under the cover of a leafy canopy. “So this morning at breakfast that wasn’t about the conservatory? I mean, she probably could guess something happened if she saw that kiss, but she couldn’t have been too upset. She was nice to me…which is totally not what I should be taking away from this conversation. You confronted your mother. What else did she say?”

“She denied having anything to do with Hudson’s murder.”

“You accused her of murder?” She groaned. “No wonder she won’t speak to you.” 

“She didn’t have anything new to say anyway.”

“Nothing?”

“A warning similar to the one Walter gave.”

“At least there’s that,” she said, looking on the bright side.

“What?”

“Walter came around. Maybe your mom will start sharing secrets soon as well.”

Oliver laughed, a short abbreviated sound. “My mother has yet to admit Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny aren’t real. I’m not holding my breath.” 

She opened her mouth to say something about his lack of optimism but got distracted by the play of light filtering through the leaves onto Oliver’s hair and face. He could have been in the middle of a photo shoot, he looked that good, but it was the teasing tilt that came with his incredulous smile that took her breath away. He wasn’t putting on the charm, he was just being himself and that was the most potent cocktail. And for the next few weeks, he was hers. The knowledge hummed in her veins. 

“Just so you know,” Oliver added, a pained looked accompanying the creases on his forehead, “Mom’s silent treatment probably was coming no matter what I said. Before I brought up the Gambit, she made it very clear she’d heard from the guard that found us in the conservatory.” 

Felicity snapped out of his beauty induced trance and groaned. “What did she say?”

The east gate was in sight now and as hoped, no one was keeping an eye on it. They stopped short of it, staying under the cover of the trees while they waited for Tommy and Thea to pull up. 

“To start, she doesn’t approve of me taking advantage of you based on the situation.”

“What? That’s nonsense. If anything, I’m the one that took advantage of you.”

His lips twitched briefly into a smile. Her outrage seemed to amuse him. “Oh? How’s that?”

“Technically, until I came along, you were minding your business, quietly thinking about your responsibilities…”

“I thought I was brooding in the dark?”

“…until I dragged you in the pool,” she finished, ignoring his interruption. 

“Where,” he said, sliding an arm around her waist and drawing her closer, “I was powerless to resist you.” Her breath caught in her throat. Heat smoldered in his eyes. 

She gazed into his focused baby blues and settled her arms around his neck, her skipping pulse belying the causal air she was trying to project. “Maybe, it was a mutual taking advantage. I mean, you’re pretty irresistible yourself.”

His mouth closed on hers. It wasn’t frantic like the kisses they shared at the pool or something meant to sear a memory into her brain like the ones they’d stolen weeks ago at her door. It was another stolen moment, but more akin to stopping to smell the roses. The edge of heat was there, but knowing Tommy would pull up shortly kept everything on simmer.

She enjoyed the lazy, exploratory nature of the kiss. She’d highly recommend the experience to anyone waiting in the woods on a pleasant, late summer morning. She leaned into Oliver, feeling as if the dappled sunlight was warming her from the inside. He took the time to learn as his mouth tasted, teased and stroked against hers, simultaneously arousing and soothing. She breathed in his scent, slightly different this morning with them both using whatever products were on hand in their pre-stocked showers. She smiled against his lips, finding his more woodsy aroma ironically appropriate. 

Two, quick toots of a horn sounded in the background. Slowly, they separated, taking final kisses for the road before they broke apart and stepped out from behind the screen of bushes. Seconds later, they exited the gate and slipped into Tommy’s waiting car. 


	21. Chapter 21

Once in Tommy's Honda, no one followed them to the townhomes, but when they pulled up, there was a red car with the driver still in it parked directly behind her red Mini and Oliver’s black pickup. 

“Do you want me to keep driving?” Tommy asked. 

Oliver shook his head. “No, it’s fine. He’s not with the press.”

“How do you know?” Thea asked.

Tommy pulled alongside and Felicity took a closer look. The guy was wearing a familiar looking red hoodie. 

“That’s your guy, isn’t it? Roy.”

“Who?” Thea craned her neck to get a better look. “He’s cute.” She waved and Roy awkwardly waved back. 

Oliver beetled his brows together. “He’s not here for that.”

Thea gave her brother a suspicious look and crossed her arms. “And why exactly is he here?” 

“He’s going to follow you two to Verdant and then keep an eye on you while you’re there.”

“Tommy has security.”

“Only during regular business hours and who will also have other duties.”

“Besides stalking me? No. No way. I don’t need some babysitter standing around and getting in my way.”

“Then put him to work. This is nonnegotiable.”

“My life isn’t up for negotiation.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

Felicity intervened before either sibling dug in further.

“If it makes your brother feel better, what can it hurt to have an extra pair of hands helping get the place set up? Didn’t you say you wanted to rearrange a few things? Plus, Roy has known Oliver for years. Imagine all the dirt.”

Thea looked thoughtful and then a gleam came into her eyes. “Ok. He can come.”

Concern altered Oliver’s frown. When he looked like he was about to object, Felicity hustled him out of the car. “Ok, we should get going. We’ll see you at Verdant in a bit.”

She followed Oliver out his side of the car, quickly shut the door, and started waving. Tommy took the cue and took off with Roy following on their tail.

Still frowning, Oliver watched them drive away. “I wanted to talk to Roy.”

“Warn him off, you mean,” she said under her breath.

“What?”

“Never mind. Whatever you have to say can wait an hour.”

“An hour? I don't mind the delay”-he was all in favor of a delay for the right reason-“but I thought you just needed your laptop?” 

“I need to change.” She plucked at the green knit dress she’d been wearing before she changed at the Queen Mansion before the gala. “Plus, my battery finally died so I need my charger and I should call my mom. That will take the longest.” Chances were good her mom hadn’t watched the news last night; Donna Smoak preferred living in a happy bubble, but someone she worked with might pass on the news later. 

“Fine. Just hurry, I want…” Oliver trailed off. He was looking at the front of their townhomes. She looked but didn’t see what he was seeing.

“What is it?”

“Something’s off.”

She fumbled in her purse for a second and came out with a canister of pepper spray. “What do you see?”

He glanced at her canister but didn’t comment. “My blinds are wrong. I've dealt with too many ambitious photographers over the years to ever leave them flipped open like that.”

“Could Tommy have messed with them while you were changing?”

“Maybe. Probably.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

He shook his head. “I’m not. Take a closer look at your curtains.”

She tightened her grip on the pepper spray. “They’re closed.” She liked as much light as possible during the day and since there was just an office building across the street, she never felt the need to close them at night. Not that she walked around naked in her living room anyway. 

When she and Thea left, the curtains absolutely were not shut. “Someone’s been inside.” She dug out her keys and charged forward.

He caught her arm. “Here.” Oliver swapped out her keys for his phone. “I’ll go in. Call 911 if there’s trouble.” 

“It’s my house. My responsibility.”

He glanced over his shoulder, exasperated. “We’re not debating this. We’re partners, right? Stay here and back me up.”

She nodded, but it felt odd letting someone else handle her problem. Growing up, her mom had worked incredibly long hours to support them. Too often she’d had no option but to handle everything on her own. But Oliver was right. They were partners. So at least for now, she was allowed to let him take the lead when his skillset exceeded hers. That was fair. Still, she followed him up on the porch. 

Without touching anything else with his hands, Oliver used the key and then with his foot, gently nudged open her door. She peeked around him. 

“Shit.” The short expletive flew out of her mouth. She didn’t know where to look. A whirlwind of destruction had ripped through her home. Pictures smashed, stuffing torn from her couch cushions. Drawers emptied and broken. The garbage and recycling bins dumped all over the wood floors. Oliver carefully stepped over her pewter dragon figurine that belonged on a shelf on the other side of the room and quickly checked the bathroom, the spare bedroom and the master suite.

“It’s clear.” He walked back out the front door and a moment later she heard him moving around his unit. He was back in under a minute. “My place was searched too.” 

She was too dazed by the destruction to do more than nod. Searched. She wasn’t sure he was right. How could anything be found in this mess? 

Oliver guided her outside and had her sit on the step. He took back his phone and dialed the police. In the background, she heard him make the call, answering the usual questions and agreeing to wait for the police, but it didn’t seem real yet. 

She’d been robbed once before, when she’d first moved in, but the thief just broke a window and made off with her electronics. It was clean and impersonal. She’d fixed the window, filed an insurance claim and installed a security system. She had her own personal cloud backing up all of her computers and near impenetrable security so once insurance cut the check to replace her hardware, she’d been all set. That had been an inconvenience. This was an attack. She stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“I need to see it.”

“Felicity…”

“No,” she shrugged him off when he reached for her. “I have to see it. I need to know.” She didn’t say what exactly she was looking for since she didn’t know. 

Oliver followed her inside, not crowding her but not letting her get too far alone. The living room was as bad as she remembered. The kitchen was worse. Her refrigerator hadn’t been full but they’d spilled whatever take-out leftovers she’d had onto the floor and opened ever single yogurt cup and squeezed out the content, even smearing some of it on the counter and refrigerator door.

She’d left partially eaten yogurt overnight on the counter before. It wasn’t exactly a scientific comparison, but based on her experience, she guessed the vandals must have broken in no sooner than around the time she was leaving the gala, otherwise, the thicker splotches would show some signs of drying too. What would have happened if she’d walked in on them instead of staying at the Queen mansion? She shook her head. She’d obsess over what if’s later. 

The bathroom was like the kitchen. She didn’t dare step inside; she’d be sure to slip on the shampoo and conditioner squirted on the floor. A hair dryer had the cord cut and was tossed in the toilet. An old bottle of sunscreen lay in the sink, its contents dripping down the mirror. 

In the spare bedroom, the comforter and sheets were pulled off and the bare mattress cut open. The closet where she’d moved her winter clothing was open and most of the clothes tossed on the floor. A quart of teal paint left over from when she painted the living room had been pried open and dumped all over her wool skirts and long sleeved jackets. 

She went back into the hall, dreading the master. The intruders had left the hallway closet alone. Maybe they hadn’t noticed it or maybe the towels and sheets hadn’t interested them. In the far corner, where the door opened onto the back patio, she discovered how they’d entered. The glass was intact but the doorjamb splintered from where they’d rammed their way in. That still didn’t explain why the alarm never went off. Someone must have cut the wires.

She turned and finally entered her bedroom. It was as bad as the spare but with the added feature of her underwear and lingerie cut up into ragged swatches of silk and lace, presumably with the kitchen shears stuck in her ceiling. In the adjoining bathroom, the bottles of her shampoo, conditioner and the bubble bath her mother had given her last Hanukkah floated in the sunken tub. An involuntary whimper came out when she realized beneath the surface looked to be every pair of shoes she owned. Turning away from the horrendous sight, she glanced at the sink and mirror and gasped. She turned on her heel and ran right into Oliver. His arms closed around her. 

“You don’t have to see anything more.”

She wanted to leave but his words implied there was more. She spotted her closed closet door. She wasn’t the most orderly person in her bedroom and she never bothered shutting the walk in closet door. She moved around Oliver and reached for the handle. Oliver’s hand caught hers.

“You really don’t—”

“Yes, I do.” 

Grimly, he opened the door and stepped to the side. 

The smell hit her first. She pulled up the collar of her dress to act as a filter while she took shallow breaths through her mouth. It only dulled the stench. What _was_ that? The state of her wardrobe was almost enough to distract her from the eye stinging aroma.

Some dresses were on the ground but at least half were still on their hangers, everything slashed into shreds. They hadn’t used anything as precise as a scissor here. She couldn’t imagine how sharp the knife must have been. Glancing to see if they’d left it behind led her to identifying the smell. Her one remaining pair of shoes, a cutesy pair of flats with cheerful panda faces, sat defiled beneath a swirling mound of shit. It wasn’t dog shit.

She gagged and flailed backward. Oliver steadied her when she would have stumbled.

“I need air,” she said and pushed past Oliver. She was going to be sick. She made it to the lawn before she lost her orange juice and coffee. They burned on their way back up. 

Oliver disappeared for a minute and then returned with the kind of bottled water that he normally kept in his refrigerator. 

“They didn’t’ touch my kitchen,” he said as he twisted off the cap and handed it to her. Gratefully, she swished out her mouth, spit and then sipped the cool, refreshing liquid. 

“My purse,” she said. She’d left it on the front step, but she couldn’t go back for it, not now. She wanted to be as far from her former home as possible. And that was what it was. Former. She couldn’t go back to that, couldn’t live there let alone ever let her guard down enough to sleep. What kind of person would do that? Any of it. And the mirror. She’d tried not to think of it while she’d gone through the rest of her place, but if she’d had more than a couple sips of water, she would have been sick all over again. She’d been so careful. How could it have followed her home? But it had. 

Oliver delivered her purse. 

She murmured her thanks and then told him she was going to go sit in her car. 

Oliver followed her. She dug around in the multi zippered bag until she found her spare keys. Her regular set still dangled from the lock in her front door. She used the fob to unlock her Mini Cooper. When she sat down, she left the door open and faced sideways in her seat. Oliver didn’t press her to talk but stayed close, leaning against the side of his truck. She double checked the glove compartment and the backseat but nothing in her car looked like it had been touched. 

“They must have come during the night, long before Diggle had the cars delivered,” Oliver offered. 

She nodded her agreement and then closed her eyes.

“I wasn’t careful enough,” she confessed. 

“It could have had to do with Carina Welrose,” Oliver suggested.

She shook her head. “The words on the mirror say otherwise.”

**LIBER EST MORTEM**

A warning on a mirror. In lipstick. God, what a cliché, but so damn effective.

“I got mortem,” Oliver said, “but not the rest.”

“Not that I’m going to tell the police anything about any of this, but the first word means book. Not positive what ‘Est’ means but ‘Book’ plus ‘Death’ seems clear enough.”

“Walter would have had the book when this happened.”

“I guess they didn’t know that.” She sighed. 

Police sirens sounded in the distance. Probably not for them. If the police raced up to every break in with their lights flashing, no one in the Glades would get any peace. They waited in silence for another ten minutes before a pair of cruisers arrived on scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't go anywhere. :D Another, longer chapter will be posted just as soon I proof it.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's that second chapter I promised you today!  
*****

From Verdant’s packed bar, Oliver intently watched Felicity as she let loose on the dance floor. Hair down, glasses off, barefoot and wearing a short, shimmery dress Thea produced from out of thin air, no one looking at her would guess several hours earlier she’d been handling her second police interview in the last 24 hours. His first instinct had been to wall her off behind the gates of the mansion, but Felicity refused to go into hiding. 

“I made a promise to Thea. Besides, no one,” she said, “is going to make a move in a crowded nightclub.”

“Have you forgotten Carina and her gun? Crowds didn’t bother her.”

“True, but she was already the exception to the rule so it only ups the odds against anyone breaking them again so soon. I’ll be perfectly safe.”

He, Diggle, Tommy, Roy and the security crew at Verdant were on high alert to make sure she was right. So far, the evening had been without incident. Well, without any unplanned incidents. Thea worked several surprises into the non-stop party going on at Verdant. His least favorite was the glitter filled balloon drop. A few were still intact, wafting around the dance floor but most had been popped, each one its own special glitter bomb. He tried brushing off the specs still clinging to his dark shirt but it was hopeless. With just as many stuck to his hand, he only spread the sparkle.

Even without the dress or the extra glitter, Felicity dazzled tonight and given the crap she’d gone through, it was an act of defiance. She looked amazing. Guys had been flocking around her all evening but she handled each one lightly, but firmly, making some kind of joke and sending them away smiling. Thea worked hard to make sure the energy never flagged but Felicity might as well have been her wingman tonight, enthusiastically embracing every moment, gathering a flock of like-minded women. Several bachelorette parties peppered the crowd making it unofficially ladies night.

The music shifted from a high-energy, pulsating, technetronic track to something slower with an acoustic guitar playing over the beat. The laser show shifted into a million points of light drifting over the crowd. He left the beer he’d been nursing and pushed away from bar. By the time he crossed the dance floor, Felicity had turned down three proposed dance partners. The guy she’d just said no to saw him coming and mouthed ‘Good luck.’ But he didn’t need luck. 

When she saw him, Felicity’s sweaty, glitter covered face lit up. 

“We never got to finish our last dance,” he said.

She readily slipped into his embrace. She’d abandoned her borrowed heels an hour ago and without the extra height, her head only just came above his shoulder, but she fit perfectly against his chest, her arms wrapping around his neck. It was loud, so they didn’t try to keep up a conversation, instead just moved together to the music.

He relaxed, letting his guard down a notch since having her in his arms meant he didn’t have to worry where she was. She seemed to be handling the near complete destruction to her property better than he was. Not since he’d left Starling City in a cloud of shame and loathing had he felt this angry and helpless. Both their places had been trashed but where his had been thoroughly turned upside down and searched, it hadn’t come with the same level of meanness as had the attack on Felicity’s space. 

His drawers had been emptied and all the clothing from his closet pulled from their hangers but no real damage had been inflicted. His kitchen and main bath were mostly untouched, probably because both were nearly empty. The drawers in the master bath had been pulled out and dumped, but his products left in their bottles.

The mattress and his rented leather couch had both been slashed but after looking at the precise cuts, he was sure it was done out of thoroughness for whatever they were searching for rather than because of any personal grudge. That’s not how Felicity’s side felt. The destruction in her townhome, particularly her bedroom, looked personal. Violent. Like her things became a stand in for the pain they wanted to inflict. He was more worried than he’d let on. If he thought he could convince Felicity to leave for some remote island, he’d hire the private jet himself. 

But she wasn’t going anywhere, so neither was he. 

The bored cops ready to write up another B&E report vanished after they took one look inside. The thoroughness of destruction to her personal items was not normal for your average thief or vandal. And when the Queen name was factored into the mix, they called in more uniforms to start knocking on doors. 

When the detectives working the gala shooting arrived and took over the investigation, the difference contrast in how his place was tossed did not go unnoticed. Oliver suspected if he hadn’t had an air tight alibi, he’d have been the one pinned with the crime. Felicity hadn’t taken the implication quietly.

“Of all the stupid suggestions. Oliver did not do this.”

“Ma’am, we have to explore all avenues.” 

“His alibi has been given and corroborated. You’ve explored your dead end. Now can you move on to some real detecting or at least get creative and falsely accuse someone new for a change?”

The detective had begun turning an interesting shade of red before Oliver intervened. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had been indignant on his behalf, but much more of it and he’d be bailing her out of jail.

“I think what she means is if you don’t have any further questions, we’ll let you get back to your work.”

“You do that.”

He ushered her down the sidewalk toward his truck. She stopped. 

“We can’t leave. Everything is a mess, I need to…,”

“Let me take care of this.” He held her arms. 

“It’s not your responsibility. I can handle this.”

“Felicity, we’ve been over this. We’re partners. And someone just sent you a pretty significant message. We have bigger things to worry about than cleaning up after them.” And if he had any say, he would make sure she never had to see that vicious mess again. He wouldn’t forget the sick horror on her face as she realized the extent of bile behind the break in. “I can make a few calls and have a crew ready as soon as the police allow them in. Professionals that know how to handle this. In the meantime, we need to get to Thea and Tommy.”

“You think someone might go after them?”

What he wanted was Felicity off the street and if rushing to check on Tommy and Thea accomplished that, he was in favor.

“I don’t want to take any chances. And they’ve waited long enough for an explanation.”

They drove separately to Verdant since Felicity wasn’t willing to leave her car, making a quick stop for her to buy a new phone charger so she could call her mother. Thea met them when they pulled up.

He’d only pulled his keys from the ignition when Thea was knocking on his window.

“What took you so long? Or don’t I want to know?” She wagged her eyebrows suggestively.

He ignored her teasing. He and Felicity hadn’t even discussed if they were telling people about their relationship. While he climbed out of his truck, Thea shifted her attention Felicity’s car. 

“Why’s Felicity upset? Who’s she talking to?”

He shut and locked his door before following his sister’s line of sight. With an uncharacteristic frown on her face, Felicity held her cell phone up to her ear while massaging her temple.

“Her mom.”

“Oh. Well that explains it. Seriously though, it’s been hours. What happened?”

“Had to wait for the police.”

“What?”

“Our places were ransacked.”

“Seriously?”

“Felicity’s was…” he shook his head. “It was bad. It was personal. They messed up my place, destroyed some furniture and hell, they stole my sheets.” The police figured they’d used them to wrap the flat screen TV and the other electronics that had been taken. Having to go back to that linen store again was the worst of it for him. “But they ruined just about everything she owns. Pictures, decorations, clothing, shoes.”

“Her shoes? That’s awful! Do they think it was Carina before she went to the gala?”

“Timeline doesn’t fit. But they left Felicity a message. Someone knows she’s seen Dad’s list.”

Thea frowned and then crossed her arms. “Oliver, I’m almost totally in the dark what this list stuff is about.”

“We’re here now to change that.”

They waited until Felicity was off the phone. Turned out her mom _had_ seen the news coverage about the shooting.

“Was she very upset?” Thea asked.

“Very,” Felicity said, brushing past them both to go inside the club. “She can’t believe I didn’t tell her I was sleeping with Oliver Queen.”

Thea narrowed her eyes and shot him a look. He shook his head. “Not now, Thea.” He followed Felicity inside. 

Inside Verdant, Tommy was behind the bar prepping for the night by cutting lemons, limes, orange slices and pineapple wedges; Felicity was eating a stolen a pineapple wedge. Roy was on a very tall ladder replacing a bulb. Tommy looked up.

“Are you going to explain where you’ve been? This one refused,” he said nodding toward Felicity.

“I didn’t refuse. It’s bad manners to talk while you have food in your mouth.”

“Which you told me after you shoved an orange smiley in your mouth.”

“I wanted and extra shot of vitamin C before I ate my pineapple. Besides, I get hungry after police interrogations.”

Roy climbed down the ladder. “What did you do now boss?”

Tommy pointed at him, “Hey, I’m your boss now, not him.” He swung back to Oliver. “What did you do now?”

Felicity scowled. “It’s bad enough when the police do it. Oliver did nothing wrong.” She wiped her juice stained hands on a towel. “Tommy, is your laptop in the office?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I need to borrow it.” She walked away, calling over her shoulder, “Oliver will explain.”

He frowned, watching her climb the stairs to the VIP level. Her talk with her mother had upset her more than he’d realized. Was she upset her mom knew they were together? She hadn’t been shy about telling Thea, he noted with satisfaction, but she hadn’t been exactly happy when she’d said it. 

“I’ll go talk to her,” Thea said, brushing past him.

“What’s going on?”

He quickly filled Tommy and Roy in about the break in. 

“Whoa, what would make anyone do that?” Roy asked.

“You’re thinking this has to do with your dad, don’t you?” 

Oliver nodded at Tommy. “There’s a lot more going on that you need to know about.” He glanced at his watch. “I called John Diggle, QC’s head of security. When he gets here, we’ll fill everyone in.”

Tommy looked surprised. Roy looked hungry and helped himself to one of the whole oranges still in the bag. 

“I’ve only heard good things about Mr. Diggle,” Tommy said, “but I thought you said stuff about your dad has to be hush hush?”

“He’s already more involved than you’d think.”

Felicity was still upstairs when Diggle arrived. He asked some pertinent questions about the break in and then picked up his phone and started making some calls. They sent Roy to go get the girls so Felicity could help him explain the rest. Felicity’s eyes were swollen when they joined them. He hated that this mess had made her cry even for a second. 

Felicity, though, was all business as she set up Tommy’s computer at the bar and so everyone took their cue from her. It took them a while to get the story out and a while longer to answer questions. Thea, unlike Oliver, dismissed any possibility that their mother had anything to do with the Gambit sinking.

“Think about it logically. If Mom had anything to do with Dad’s death, the last thing she would do was preserve evidence. Find it and torpedo it, maybe, but not bring it back home for someone else to steal before they possibly destroyed it.”

“I’m leaning definitely destroyed,” Felicity added. “Moira had it salvaged, but whoever stole it from Walter probably only found out it _was_ salvaged when Walter was getting ready to move it. There’s no logical reason for the guilty party to save the smoking gun. Whatever pictures are out there, I don’t think they were recently taken.”

“All I know is Mom is deeply involved. This morning she warned me to stay away from the book.”

“Ollie, I’m not saying she’s not keeping secrets but even if for some reason she wanted Dad dead —and there’s no way she would—there is abso-friggin-lutely no way she’d have let you go get on a yacht that she was planning to sink. She wouldn’t have done anything to hurt you.”

“Don’t be so sure of it. I tried to come home a few months after I left. She had security kick me out. And that was before she disowned me.”

“And that’s awful and I don’t understand why she would do anything like that, but there’s a gargantuan difference between ostracizing you and being ok if she got you killed. And if she didn’t care, she wouldn’t have spent hundreds of thousands of dollars making sure you were ok the whole time you were away.”

“Spying on someone doesn’t equal caring.”

“Please, deny it all you want. I know you know that Mom cares even if she has a screwed up way of showing it. If you had been here the last three years to see how desperate she’s been to get you home, you wouldn’t have any doubts.”

Tommy pipped in.

“I’ll back her up on that. What I don’t get is why you or Felicity think my dad had anything to do with any of this. Not saying he was a good guy. The stuff that came out about his connections to the Chinese Triad after they killed him pretty much confirmed his ethics as a human being were, um, questionable at best, but ordering hits and covering up murders? Why?” 

“I’m trying to figure that part out. I admit, a lot of my suspicions are circumstantial,” Felicity conceded, “but they’re not baseless. A Fortune 500 CEO, during his acceptance speech for Humanitarian of the Year award, is assassinated and instead of every big wig in town doubling their security, we had people like Walter getting rid of his team altogether.”

“I thought Walter promoted Mr. Diggle.” Thea stated.

Diggle nodded. “First he terminated my private contract and then he hired me to oversee all of QC’s security. Felicity is right though. Personal security companies all through the city lost clients after Merlyn’s death. That’s not how it works usually. Walter Steele went against my best advice. This was despite the lack of any breaks in the case of who tried to kidnap him.”

Felicity nodded. “Walter’s priorities complexly shifted; he took back the List and told me to drop the investigation because the danger was over. He and Moira separated. Moira went from never speaking Oliver’s name to making his homecoming her priority. All this right after Malcolm died.”

“That could all be a coincidence. The police went after the Triad hard after Dad’s death. Maybe that’s what made everyone feel safer.”

“I doubt it made a real difference,” Felicity said. “ I, ah, had a friend who was able to pull up the police files.”

Knowing Felicity was her own source, Oliver hid his smile. 

“The FBI managed to squeeze them out of Starling for other things, but Malcolm was a clean hit. They didn’t catch the shooter. It was only the claims that came after and the MO that connected the hit to the Chinese Triad.”

“What again is the Triad?” Thea asked.

“Chinese mafia,” Roy answered. He shook his head. “You don’t want to mess with them.”

“On top of the rumors, there’s also Merlyn Global’s suspicious, computer security practices. I’m sure if I could take a look at the files onsite I’d find something.”

“So really, you don’t have any proof my dad had anything to do with the list or the not so accidental deaths.”

“Proof is subjective. When you don’t have all the answers, looking at the commonalities,” Diggle explained, “is the best way to figure out what people are up to.”

“What about that thing Dad said he did?” Thea asked, shifting the subject away from Malcolm. “That terrible thing? If we knew what it was, maybe that would help.”

“Maybe, unless it was just the motivation that pushed him to do whatever he was doing with the people on the list.” 

“If you want commonality,” Oliver said, “the one thing everyone with any money or social standing in Starling has is charity work.”

“With the Glades being everyone’s favorite project.”

“Useless project you mean.”

Everyone turned to Roy to expand. “Ok, the clinic made a difference but most of those other programs were jokes. Like when they spent millions on sculptures to beautify the Glades but at the same time closed down factories so thousands more were unemployed. By the time I left Starling, the charity services were drying up. I kept hearing about the millions raised and donated, but we stopped seeing any of it a long time ago. 

Tommy frowned. “Before he died, Dad was planning on shutting down Mom’s clinic. Even though it was her legacy. Hell, it was more than that, it was her passion. For a while when Dad came back, it was Dad’s passion too. Then he started to blame the Clinic and the Glades for Mom’s death.”

“Would you say that he was acting suspiciously?”

“Weird maybe, but he was always caught up in something. Still, being a horrible father and a less than stellar human being doesn’t make him a murderer.”

“You’re right. I don’t know for sure he had anything to do with the Gambit or any of the accidental deaths; my gut says he does, but even if I’m wrong, something about your dad’s death changed things. And I want to find out why.” 

“Felicity, shouldn’t you be more worried about who is after you now?” Thea asked. 

“It has to be connected to the list, the book your dad referenced. Walter took it back before I had the chance go through all the names, but I kept digging into the ones I had. Speaking of commonalities; every name belonged to people of wealth, connections or power, all with secrets they were keeping. Secrets, that in some cases, I didn’t exactly let stay secret.” 

“Felicity and I have done a bit of anonymous activism,” Diggle explained, “sending police or the feds what they need to pin some of these assholes to the wall.” 

“So that’s who you think came after you?”

Felicity shrugged though Oliver didn’t buy into her nonchalant act. 

“The message they left referenced the book. I thought I was being incredibly careful, but I must have slipped up.”

“Maybe not how you think.” Diggle crossed his arms. “I’m still waiting for more details, but the detectives on your case made an unexpected discovery. Your place is wired. Bugged”

“Bugged?” Disgust registered on Felicity’s face. She closed her eyes to absorb the shock.

“Audio and probably at least a couple cameras. The police found some small holes drilled for fiber optic cables between your unit and the empty one next door. Opened the unit up. There were signs someone had made themselves comfortable there recently, fast food bags and some patio furniture that looked like it was taken from a neighbor.”

“That gives us a time line,” Oliver shared. “The leasing agent showed me both townhomes before I chose mine. The one on the other side of Felicity’s unit was clean and empty then.”

“So any time after that.” Diggle nodded, weighing what he knew.

“And that person, the one watching is the one that broke in?”

“That’s the best guess. But I’m not sold on that person having anything to do with our side project. The last time we’d worked a name was weeks before Queen came back, long before anyone was monitoring the house. And Felicity, you were meticulously careful. I know I pressured you about the risks, but I saw the safeguards you took on line. You have better security protocols in place than they do over at ARGUS.”

“You’re thinking it was my return that got someone’s attention.” Oliver met Diggle’s solemn gaze. He nodded.

“It’s a theory.”

“I don’t suppose it was a coincidence you showed us your dad’s video and then that night, the place was ransacked.” Tommy pointed out.

The idea threw Oliver, but it fit. After Felicity left him with his father’s message, he’d watched it numerous times but never at Felicity’s place. Hell, until they told Thea, he and Felicity hadn’t even discussed his father’s video since that first night he’d shown up at her place. The Foundation Initiative had come first. 

“Was my place tapped too?” Oliver asked. Dig shook his head.

“The police checked. It’s clean.”

“Don’t you find that odd?”

“It asks some questions. Might mean you weren’t the main focus or it might mean your place was too hard to get into.”

“And yet my place,” Felicity pointed out, “was the one with the alarm. Fat lot of good it did.”

“Speaking of. Whoever broke in knew what they were doing. The alarm you picked was a good one.”

“Not good enough,” Felicity grumbled. 

“Better than most. The wiring,” he explained to everyone, “bypassed the electrical panel going into her townhome so a burglar couldn’t just cut the power to her place to disable the alarm. Whoever broke in knew to track the buried wires directly to the pad mounted transformer.”

“The what?”

“That green metal box that handles the electricity for the whole block.”

“So we look for an electrician?” Tommy asked.

“Or a professional B&E man.”

“If there was a professional, he was only half the team,” Oliver said. “My place was gone through without emotion. Felicity’s was hit by someone throwing a tantrum.”

“Which is good and bad news,” Diggle concluded. “The instability makes him dangerous, but it also means he’s sloppy. They were looking for something and with the TV’s and the electronics taken from Oliver’s unit, they could have made the break in look like any other in the Glades, but he made it personal in Felicity’s unit and that brought a hell of a lot more attention than it would have gotten otherwise.”

“So you think he’ll make a mistake?” Tommy asked.

“He already did. You remember that gift left behind in her closet?”

“Uck, so disgusting!” Thea exclaimed, saying it for them all.

“Disgusting yes, but also incredibly dumb. DNA doesn’t just come from hair follicles.”

“Of course!” Felicity brightened up. “I can’t believe I didn’t think about that.”

“It’ll take a while to get the DNA test back, but if he’s in the system, we’ll have him.”

“Do you think if Mom made a donation to the SCPD, it might speed the process up?”

“Good idea Speedy, could you talk to her on it?”

Thea nodded. “On it.” She pulled out her phone and started texting.

“In the meantime, we need to keep Felicity safe.” Oliver said.

“Along those lines, I have a couple of my guys that are going to help keep an eye on the crowd tonight. Unless,” Diggle looked to Felicity, “I can convince you to sit the evening out?”

“No.” She didn’t elaborate, just shut down the option. 

Silence hung in the air until Thea got off her phone. 

“Ok, Mom is up to date. Now, Tommy,” she said rubbing her hands together, “how about some mojito’s, heavy on the rum.” Thea didn’t wait for an answer before heading to the bar. “I think we all could use a drink.” 

“Thea, it’s way too early,” Felicity protested.

“It’s after six.”

“Oh. I hadn’t realized it was that late.” She wandered back to where she’d left Tommy’s laptop on the bar and pulled up a seat.

“I’m starved,” Roy said and reached for another orange. Tommy slapped his hand.

“Stop eating the inventory! Go get a burger or something if you’re hungry.”

Thea popped up from behind the counter with a mortar and pestle in one hand and a tray of mint in the other. “Oh, I could go for a burger. Where you going? Big Belly is good.”

Tommy took the tools to make mojitos out of Thea’s hands, grabbed her by the shoulders and walked her out from behind the bar. “You are under twenty-one. You can’t be back here.” He grabbed his wallet and peeled off three twenties and handed them to Roy. “Here, take her with you and bring back enough food for everyone.”

Diggle stood up to follow them outside.

“You going too?” Felicity asked without looking up from the computer.

He shook his head and covered the speaker of his cell phone, “Have a few more calls to make.”

Translation, he wanted some privacy while making them.

Tommy looked at the mint in the tray and shrugged. “A mojito actually sounds good.” He pulled clean glasses from the sink, tossed a few sprigs of mint into the bowl he’d confiscated from Thea and started making mojitos. “You want one too?” 

Oliver pulled up a seat at the bar. “Why not?”

Part of him was anxious to keep working the questions now that everything was laid out, but Felicity had eaten less than nothing since the night before and if burgers and mojitos made a shit day a bit better for her, he would harness the patience of Gandhi. His mood was helped by Felicity safe where he could see her and Diggle standing watch out back. 

Tommy placed a coaster down for each of them, followed by their drinks. “FYI, I went _light_ on the rum. Empty stomachs and all. Even when Thea hits twenty-one, she will never work for me as a bartender.” Tommy paused as his drink was on the way to his lips. “Not that there’s any guarantee I’ll have a bar by then for her to tend.”

“I haven’t forgotten you Tommy,” Felicity promised. “That’s what I’m working on now. I can see why Oliver’s contacts came up empty. I’ve found the registration with the State for WP Enterprises but for some reason, there’s no details about the partnership agreement. Maybe it’s not set up as an LLC. Can I get the names of all the partners?”

“Sure.” He rattled off a list of names. “There’s George Patel of course, he’s the one I’ve met with, then it’s John A Walker, Sidney Riley, Donny Marina, and Simon Bolivar.” She verified spellings of a couple names and then dived in for a more comprehensive search. They stayed out of Felicity’s way until Thea and Roy returned. Felicity barely acknowledged them when they started passing out food until Thea snapped her fingers in front of her eyes.

“Earth to Felicity.” 

“Hmm?”

“Food. Eat.”

“Sure, in a minute. This makes no sense. I can’t find any kind of legal document that include all or even some of those names.” 

“What names?” Thea asked. 

“The ones that will take over Verdant unless Tommy can come up with half a million to cover the money they were supposed to loan him to cover his share of the expense to buy the building next door.” She shook her head. “I can’t find them.”

Tommy leaned over Felicity’s shoulder. “On the partnership agreement?”

“Or anywhere, unless your partners include someone famous for making whiskey, a Russian double agent, and a 17th century aristocrat that incited revolution in Latin America.” 

“You think they’re all aliases?”

She glanced at Tommy’s stunned face and then answered Diggle. “I’m not sure about all of them. George Patel is a fairly common name and I’ve found dozens of Donny Marina’s but narrowing it down to the right ones is not happening.”

Thea munched on a French fry. “Dona Marina? Like the opera?”

“What?”

“La Conquista. I did a paper on it. Dona Marina or La Malinche. She was an indigenous slave turned translator for that old timey explorer, um, Cortes, and famously—and unfairly—blamed for helping him conquer the Aztecs.”

“Wait,” Tommy held up his hands in protest. “So we have a supposed traitor to her people, an aristocrat that led the common people into revolution, a double agent…and a guy that makes whiskey?”

“Scratch that that last one,” Felicity corrected. “Not the whiskey guy_. JOHN A_ Walker was former US Navy turned Russian spy.” 

“There’s definitely a pattern here.”

“What does that mean?” Tommy rubbed his hands over his face. “I mean, it sounds like you’re saying I got suckered but does that mean I get to keep Verdant? If there’s no LLC, then I can’t be held to clauses in a contract that doesn’t exist, right?” 

“I’m not sure. It seems certain you were lied to but depending on what you signed, it might matter less that you were bilked than proving it.” 

“My copies are at my lawyer’s office.”

“Tell me you at least read what you signed before you signed it.”

“I did, I swear I did. I even had my lawyer look it over, well…unofficially,” he admitted. “He was doing me a favor. He even brought along the notary.”

“What do you mean, brought along? You weren’t at his office?”

“No, he came here.”

Felicity frowned.

“What? Lawyers do that all the time.”

“Maybe for their paying clientele. Was this guy a friend?”

“Not really.” Tommy sat heavily down. “You think the lawyer was in on it?”

“Your con man could have bought him off. You need to get ahold of that contract as soon as possible and see exactly what you signed. I’ll keep digging with George Patel. So far, his is the only name on any documents I’ve found. You wouldn’t have a picture of him?”

“Actually, I think I do, from when I signed. I left my phone up in the office. I’ll be right back.”

Diggle’s phone rang and he once again walked outside to take it.

Thea wrapped up her half eaten burger and made to toss it, but Roy stopped her.

“Hey, if you’re not going to finish that…”

“You want it?” She tossed him the burger. “Ok , but I need you to run me on another quick errand.”

Roy shrugged, inhaled the rest of her burger, and followed her outside.

Oliver crumpled up the paper from his own meal. He’d been sitting back watching Felicity while everyone asked their questions. She did finally look away from her screen long enough to take a bite of her Big Belly Burger, but she set it quickly back down.”

“Is something wrong with the burger?”

“Hmm? Oh the burger? No. It’s fine…” she shook her head and pushed up her glasses on her nose. “I guess I haven’t fully gotten my appetite back after…” she trailed off again.

He nodded in understanding. “Is that all that it is?”

“What do you mean?”

“Earlier, when you came down from the office, you were upset. Was it just about the break in or something more?”

Felicity sighed, closed the laptop and set it aside. “It was nothing.”

“I saw you.” Had seen her swollen eyes. He covered the hand resting on the bar top with his, running his thumb along her knuckles. “It was something.”

She looked at their hands for a moment and then closed her eyes.

“Ok, yes, I was upset,” she admitted but quickly shook her head and looked him in the eye, “but not how you think. It’s silly really.”

“I doubt it.”

“No, it is.” She slipped her hand free and gestured toward the room surrounding them. “We’re here and I am not going to miss Thea’s debut as night manager/party planner, whatever she is. Nothing will change that.”

He nodded. “But….”

“But…it’s just that this isn’t exactly what I planned to wear on a Saturday night to the hottest club in the city.” She waved down at her matching green knit top and skirt. 

“What’s wrong with what you’re wearing?”

She looked at him over her glasses and then at the mojito he’d been sipping. “How many drinks did you have before I came downstairs?”

“I’m being serious. You look good.”

“I’m going to try and just take the compliment but this outfit—which is at least a day past its expiration day—doesn’t exactly fit Verdant’s dress code.”

“Why not?” he teased. “It’s green. Dress code is right there in the name of the place.”

“So much for you being serious.” She waved her hand again, dismissing everything. “Ignore me. I merely realized upstairs I wasn’t going to be able to dress up for Thea’s big day the way I wanted to and the reason why hit me, so I was crying. Stupid, but passing. I’m fine. It doesn’t matter.”

He again covered her hand with his. “It matters. What you feel matters. I’m so sorry you’ve had to go through any of this.”

Her lower lip quivered the tiniest bit and her eyes glistened right before she pulled her hand away, took a deep breath and started busying herself with the computer. “Thank you,” she said, “but unless you want me to be a blubbering mess, it’s time to change the subject.”

Oliver picked up his drink and sipped it, willing to support her in whatever way she needed but not quite willing to let it drop just yet. “I know you said nothing’s changed, but Thea would understand. We don’t have to stay for tonight. We can go right now.”

“Where? Back to the mansion?”

He was silent. It was the safest place in Starling but he couldn’t say he was looking forward to his mother having the chance to ambush him a second time. “We don’t have to stay in Starling City at all. We can charter a plane and go anywhere you want.”

“I’m not running. It’s not who I am.”

“No,” he agreed. “It’s not.”

“I appreciate the offer.”

“You do?”

“You’re worried.”

He pulled the book from his pocket. He’d not had the chance to even study it so far. He placed it next to her computer.

“Having a book full of suspects and no way of narrowing them down makes me worried.” He tapped the book. “Is this the same copy Walter had before?”

Felicity picked it up and examined it. She nodded. “It’s the same. I had to run a chemical process to make the ink visible without using an ultraviolet light. I recognize the water marks.” She flipped to the front of the book and handed it to him. “This is the symbol I tried to describe to you before. Do you recognize it?”

Oliver studied it. A number of intersecting lines within a circle, but the lines came from multiple angles and didn’t form any set pattern. He shook his head.

“I’ve never seen it before, but we’ll show Thea. Maybe she’s seen something like it at the house. Though how that helps even if she has, I don’t know.” 

“Hey, don’t get frustrated.” She held up the book. “With a complete list I should be able to do some cross checking and narrow down our suspect pool.”

“How?”

“Don’t worry. Leave that part to me.”

He huffed. “I’m supposed to be the one comforting you.”

She shifted in her seat toward him. “You being here does that already.”

He brushed back from her face a loose tendril of hair that had escaped her pony tail. She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch and suddenly he couldn’t not kiss her. It was a soft affair, gently brushing lips and nose nudges that culminated with their foreheads leaning together. He was struck by the sense of peace he found. Again, Felicity bringing comfort when he had meant to offer it.

She hummed a contented sound and when she exhaled, her shoulders relaxed. 

Huh. Maybe it never was about one or the other, but what they brought to each other.

It was the same feeling hours later while they were dancing under Verdant’s version of a starry sky. At least for the moment, the rest of the world and all their problems faded away.


	23. Chapter 23

Felicity couldn’t remember the last time she’d mindlessly thrown herself into the moment like she had tonight on the dance floor at Verdant. Immediately, her mind contradicted her thoughts and images of the night before with Oliver in the pool flashed into frame. She smiled. Ok, true, but the two events were very different. Tonight had been about escape, a frenzy of denial over how out of control her life had become.

  
But with Oliver, she wasn’t trying to get away. She tightened her arms around his neck and leaned into him more fully. Even without a reminder on the finite nature of life from people pointing guns or making threats against them, their time was limited. She’d been telling herself they had two months but really, they were already down to six weeks. She couldn’t control that even if thinking about it made her feel a little panicky.

  
Or had made her feel panicky.

  
It’s not like she’d stopped dreading the expiration date rushing toward them, but maybe between being held at gunpoint and having her carefully put together home ripped apart, she’d finally learned to live in the moment.

  
Growing up, she’d understood the capriciousness of life. One day you were a family and the next, your father walks out of your life. Her mother tried her very best to support them, but a cocktail waitress was dependent on securing prime shifts and the whims of her customers. Money always remained tight when she was young and until she’d gotten old enough to handle the budget, there had been too many midnight moves and weeks spent crashing on a friend’s couch. Later, they’d moved around less, but often the only reason they hadn’t gone hungry were the leftovers Donna snuck home from the casino’s all you can eat buffet.

  
Finances were marginally better when Felicity went to MIT on a scholarship. Her full ride covered school costs, room and board. Rather than letting her get a job to cover everything else, her mom insisted she concentrate on her classes and somehow always managed to scrape together enough money for clothes and a few extra’s while Felicity crammed two Master degrees into less time than it normally took to acquire a Bachelor’s degree. She’d left school a different person, throwing herself into the thrills of a steady job, a savings account, a 401k, and eventually, a mortgage on her own home.

  
The two bedroom townhome on the edge of the Glades hadn’t been fancy or in the best neighborhood, but it had been hers and she’d let herself forget the lessons she’d learned growing up. You could plan for the future, but you couldn’t control it. The home she’d created for herself would never feel like home again. Even once it was cleaned up, she wouldn’t feel safe living there. And she couldn’t stay at the Queen Mansion forever. Everything in her life was temporary right now. Where she lived, the job she held, the relationship she’d started. She wasn’t sure what her life would look like in a few months and that was oddly freeing.

  
She’d fallen apart a little when they’d first arrived at Verdant, sobbing in private to Thea over the least of her concerns. She managed to get it together enough to fill in everyone about what she and Oliver had been looking into and maybe that was the real explanation for why her heart felt lighter tonight. The burden of her secrets was now spread out among many.

  
Hers wasn’t the only life in flux. Oliver had been grappling with his demons and searching for answers since he arrived in Starling. Thea was trying to find herself as well. Her first night working at Verdant looked to be a huge success but did Thea think all she had to offer was professional party girl? And then there was Tommy. With Verdant, he’d finally found his direction only for his ambitions for it to be the reason his dream was slipping away.

  
That evening Tommy juggled getting the club ready with trying to get a hold of George Patel. She’d done what she could to help. She’d been able to verify Patel had flown into Starling International last week and hadn’t booked a flight out since. But he’d checked out of the hotel he normally stayed at and he kept a car in town rather than a rental so there hadn’t been a GPS system to hack. No luck pinging his phone either. It was probably just a burner he used for the scam. Patel probably had it turned off.

  
Tommy’s texts and messages to his business partner reflected his heavy frustration. She and Oliver tried to convince him he was better off concentrating on getting a copy of what he’d signed rather than finding George Patel. Finding him wasn’t going to solve his problems. She was relieved when noise from the club forced Tommy to stop leaving voicemails at least.

  
That evening, when Thea returned from her spur of the moment errand, she had with her a special surprise and Felicity found herself crying all over again. She’d brought her the perfect dress to wear.

  
Tonight, Thea announced, they were all going to put their problems aside. Felicity had been swept up in Thea’s excitement. She’d let her hair down and danced like there was no tomorrow, fully living in the moment, which brought her to this moment.

  
She breathed in Oliver’s closeness, relaxing into his heat, loving the secure feel of his arms around her as his chin rested on her head. She closed her eyes and they swayed to their own slower beat under a chorus about shooting stars and shining bright. The cheery song transitioned to another, something more ethereal and hypnotic, that spoke to the longing building up within her. She was torn between never wanting to let the moment end or immediately dragging Oliver somewhere more private.

  
She compromised by waiting until the soaring strains of the emotional entreaty ended before she pulled Oliver down and spoke into his ear.

  
“I’m ready to go.”

  
He nodded and took her hand, leading her off the crowded dance floor as the pulsating beat and wild laser show returned. They wove their way through the raucous screams of the amped up crowd. They passed Thea as she returned to the center of attention, beaming like she was made for the spotlight. There was no doubt of Thea’s success.  
Felicity managed to catch her eye and mime for her to come over. A shouted goodnight and a quick hug took care of their goodbyes. On their way out, they passed Tommy at the bar. He and Oliver exchanged one of those fleeting dude nod things that apparently covered it all.

  
Away from the numbing noise of the dance floor, Felicity was impatient to get outside for some quiet and privacy, not necessarily in that order. They were delayed by Roy and another bartender blocking the back door as they shifted around liquor boxes.

  
Instead of waiting for them to move, Felicity tugged Oliver the other direction, deeper down the back hallway. More cardboard boxes—some stacked three and four high—lined the walls. She led Oliver further away until they reached some open space where the hallway dead ended at the locked door leading to the flooded basement. This far removed from the speakers, the music was muted but the bass still pulsed in her veins.

  
She bunched the front of Oliver’s shirt in her hands and pulled him down for the kiss she’d been craving. It was like plugging into a socket. The electricity pent up on the dance floor surged through them. Oliver’s mouth slanted deeply over hers as he went from passive to in control. They were moving again. Not far. The cool metal of the locked door at her back was a sharp contrast to the electrifying heat of Oliver’s body pressed to her front.

  
One of his hands protectively cupped the back of her skull while the other mapped the curves displayed by the short, tight dress. She shivered and fought to get closer, enthusiastically wrapping her legs around his waist when he boosted her higher against the door. The thick ridge at the front of his jeans pressed exactly where she needed it. She wound her arms around his neck and plunged her hands into his hair, trembling as their kiss grew more desperate.

  
“Jeez, should I spray you down with a hose or something?”

  
Felicity froze with her fingers still threaded in Oliver’s hair. This was the second that day someone had walked in on them just as things were getting heated up. She was not a fan of the interruption.

  
“Go away Roy,” Oliver said, clearly not a fan either. They should start a club. A _private_ club.

  
“Hey, you’re the ones blocking the Captain Morgan,” he complained despite the fact he had no trouble grabbing a crate. “Besides, Diggle said to tell you he’s waiting to talk to you outside.”

  
“Fine. Now go away.”

  
Roy left snickering.

  
Oliver kissed her one last time before reluctantly easing back. She sighed and unwound from around him. She wanted to complain more but it wasn’t like she’d picked the most private of spots and besides, something on the door had been digging into her back. Scrunching up her forehead, she twisted around to investigate.

  
A keypad. A familiar looking keypad.

  
She examined it from a couple angles and then the door itself. The very solid metal door wasn’t new, probably original to the foundry some forty years ago, but the locked bar across it and the 12 key pad set into it couldn’t be more than five years old. The age made no sense since the old Queen Consolidated foundry Tommy transformed last year into Verdant had sat empty the previous ten years.

  
“What are we looking at?” Amusement at her sudden absorption sounded in his voice.

  
“The door. It’s old, but the lock…the lock is too new for this building.”

  
“The basement is flooded. Maybe Tommy was required to secure the door?”

  
“That’s not it. I know this system. It’s Sargent and Greenleaf. This line of locks are engineered and manufactured more like a M1A1 battle tank than a piece of lock hardware. It’s the lock they installed three years ago in the active projects section at the Applied Science building when the new Federal guidelines came out. I helped facilitate the interface with the rest of the security system. It’s not a lock Tommy could have easily picked up.”

  
“Maybe QC had a spare lying around?”

  
“Maybe.”

  
“We can ask Tommy about it now if it’s important.”

  
“No. No. It can wait. It’s just a mystery that doesn’t fit.”

  
“And you hate mysteries.”

  
“Only until I have them solved.”

  
Oliver laughed softly, pulling her attention back to him. The soft look in his eyes and the even softer smile on his face made her heart skip a beat. All she wanted to do was melt back into him. But the crowd’s roar inside of Verdant quickly reminded her why doing that here and now was a bad idea. They’d have to wait until they got back to the mansion.

She frowned, the thought already making her claustrophobic. Even behind closed doors, she felt watched. It was hard to let go when prying and judging eyes were waiting right outside.

  
“I don’t want to go back to the mansion. Not tonight.”

  
Oliver moved to protest, but she barreled on.

  
“Today was hard. I’ve been doing my best tonight not to think about what they did to my place. But even more so, how long they were actually watching me. Staying at the mansion, yes, it’s secure, but I can’t for one minute forget why I’m there or of everyone keeping track of everything I do. And I want to forget, for just a little while longer.”

  
He brushed a damp strand of hair back from her cheek. “What are you suggesting?”

  
That he was listening to how she was feeling instead of logically sticking to the mansion where he knew it was safe turned her already warm insides to goo.

  
“That we could check in at one of the better hotels downtown or by the bay. Security is part of their brand, plus no one would know we are there.”

  
“Maybe not tonight, but secrets don’t stay secret for long, even at five star hotels.”

  
“I’m not looking for forever.” A look flashed over Oliver’s face that she could not easily identify but he nodded succinctly and led her toward back door. It was only as she exited and felt the rough asphalt under her toes that her barefoot status registered as a problem.

  
“Frack. I need to find my shoes.”

  
Diggle stepped out of the shadow with them in his hands. “No need. Tommy had them stashed behind the bar.”

  
She balanced against Oliver and slipped them reluctantly on. She’d spent a lot of time on the dance floor so her feet were tired and probably dirtier than she wanted to think about.

  
“Before you go, I heard back from my contacts. Already tracked your TV and electronics to a dealer on the other side of the glades. Claims to have found them in his dumpster. No sign of any of your computers though.”

  
“Do we believe him?”

  
“Doesn’t really matter. Anyone with half a brain can see robbery wasn’t the main goal. How sure are you about your security protocol on your computers?”

  
“Very. It will automatically wipe after the third password guess or any attempt to crack it.”

  
“Good. You might want to talk to Curtis. One of the avenues the police are exploring is corporate theft.”

  
“It’s a bit early going for that. We don’t even have an idea totally locked down.”

  
“Just letting you know what they are thinking. They’d like to link it to the accusations Carina made, but they don’t have anything to connect you to the Gambit going down except current proximity to Queen. They are looking into the perp being some jealous ex-girlfriend as well.” Diggle gave Oliver in particular a speculative look. Oliver shook his head.

  
“There’s no one like that. Not recently or in my past.”

  
“Not even Laurel Lance?”

  
“I haven’t spoken to her in eight years. We both like it that way.”

  
“What about the sister?”

  
“Sara? No. We’re on good terms. And she decided I’m not really her type years ago.”

  
“Ok. They were long shots, but had to ask.”

  
“You sticking around till closing?”

  
Diggle nodded. “I’ll make sure Thea gets home safe.”

  
“Roy will help with that.”

  
“Got it.” Diggle turned to Felicity. “I had the preliminary police report sent over to your insurance company and a hard copy delivered to the mansion. Insurance is sending an agent out tomorrow. They’ll call you in the morning to set up a walk through.”

  
“Thanks. Could you maybe have them send a copy to my email? We, um, we were going to stay at a hotel tonight.”

Telling Diggle felt awkward, but not letting QC’s head of security know where they were seemed like a worse idea.  
They hadn’t officially announced to the world she and Oliver were together—had it only happened that morning? She wasn’t sure if Oliver would want outsiders to know and technically, she was now sleeping with her boss. It was another way this messy situation was stealing control from her life and exactly why she was desperate to regain just the tiniest slice by not doing the expected. She waited for some kind of look or comment from John. Other than an eyebrow twitch, he didn’t react.

  
“You know where you’re staying?”

  
“Not yet.”

  
He rattled off a few names of 4 and 5 star hotels. “All of them have reputations for discretion among their staff. Call ahead so you’re not waiting around in the lobby and once you drive to the hotel, stay there. Less chance anyone will accidentally spot you coming and going if you keep the back and forth to a minimal. Got it?”

  
“Got it. No lectures on taking chances?”

  
“I’m sure you have your reasons.” This time his eyes did slide over Oliver in a meaningful way.

  
Oliver cocked his head to the side. “Huh, is this what a piece of meat feels like?”

  
Felicity laughed. “I swear, I totally respect you as a person.”

  
“Not too much I hope.”

  
Diggle rolled his eyes. “On that note, I’m going back inside.”

  
Oliver’s truck was still parked close to the back door. Her car was next to Tommy’s so it would be fine leaving it until tomorrow. She stopped by it to grab her purse, phone and charger and realized that was everything she had. She was going to check into a place like the Ritz Carlton without any kind of luggage. No one but cheating spouses and high class hookers did that. She spotted her gym bag in the backseat in triumph. She even had a clean change of clothes in it! Oliver smirked when he saw it, but just tossed it inside his cab before boosting her up inside as well.

  
He climbed in, turned on the engine and started to pull out.

  
“Before we leave, maybe we should figure out where we are going?”

  
“You can tell me when you have that worked out. To start with, I need to make sure no one’s following us.”

  
She frowned. Slipping off to a hotel wasn’t letting her forget reality so easily.

  
“What’s wrong?” Oliver asked.

  
She shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

  
“Tell me.”

  
“It’s hard to be sexy and spontaneous when you have to keep looking over your shoulder.” Was she being selfish? Maybe staying in a hotel wasn’t worth it. So she said as much. “Would you rather just go back to the mansion?”

  
He didn’t answer right away, but he didn’t head toward the highway immediately either. They drove out of Verdant’s parking lot without an obvious tail. They still appeared to be clear as they passed several warehouses and closed down plants. You could tell which were abandoned by the desolate blackness of the property. The city kept the street lights near the sidewalks bright—the ones not shot out—but many of the old factories took up multiple city blocks, sprawling like urban black holes.

  
Closer to downtown, the decay was replaced with industrial space still in use. The biggest companies in Starling all had separate facilities scattered away from their headquarters. She spotted Palmer Tech and Kord Industries before Queen Consolidated’s Applied Science building started coming into view. A sudden wild thought came to her. She pointed to the building.

  
“Turn in over there. The next drive.”

  
He slowed down to make the turn.

  
“Felicity, what are you thinking?”

  
“Something moderately insane. I want answers and despite what I said earlier, I don’t know where to start with all those names on the list. I’ll figure it out, but it’s going to take time. Thing is, I’ve only seen the symbol on the book in three places. On the book, as a digital signature left behind from whoever was digging into Moira’s Tempest account, and here at the Applied Science division stamped on a crate. That can’t be a coincidence.”

  
“What was in the crate?” He turned into the drive and paused well back from the gate. The Applied Science division had a slot for id that would raise an iron arm and automatically open the metal gates.

  
“That, is what I want to find out.”

  
“You never looked into it before?”

  
“I couldn’t get the project number and I never had legitimate reason to return to find it. All I know is whatever it was came from a then recent acquisition, which was odd since it was already being stuck in deep storage. Breaking the rules to check it out in person never seemed worth the risk since if any one saw me, it would have tipped my hand. But now, secret’s out. Someone already knows I have the list.”

  
“It’s after midnight. Even with the Queen name, I don’t think I can get us in.”

  
“I can.”

  
“How? You don’t work for QC anymore.”

  
“Pfft. It will be ten years before they can keep me out of their systems, if then.” She dug in her bag for her old Queen Consolidated ID.

  
“We’re not exactly in stealth mode if you’re still using your id.”

  
“Give me a sec.” She accessed on her phone one of her more obscure programs. “There it is. I told you I decided before it wasn’t worth the risk, but that didn’t stop me from playing around with a protocol to get in undetected if I ever changed my mind. I’ve set it up so the moment I swipe my ID, the system will scrub the records and…” she called up another option, making a few changes on the fly. “That should handle the video surveillance. Anyone checking will see an empty view of the lot.”

  
“And the guards?”

  
“This section is low priority relying mostly on the cameras and sensors which I can also loop and block. Per their schedule, which I’m looking at now...there isn’t a live guard making rounds for the next 25 minutes. Plus, there are gates all over the complex. If we run into trouble, I can set an alarm off on the opposite end. That should draw them away.”

  
“You can do all of that from your phone?” It was a rhetorical question. Oliver put his truck in gear and drove the rest of the way up to the gate. “Do I want to know how much time you’ve spent plotting this break in?”

  
“Depends on how mad you are.”

  
“Not mad.” He glanced her way and she saw lust in his eyes. “If we make it out of this without being arrested, we are definitely staying at the hotel.”

  
A sizzle of heat rushed through her from his promise. She handed him her ID. “When. Not if.”

  
Oliver shot her one last appreciative look and then swiped her ID. The gate opened. They were in.


	24. Chapter 24

Oliver and Felicity slipped into the Applied Science complex unnoticed. Felicity ran her program to loop the local camera feeds once they reached the side entrance. It worked but she didn’t like the initial lag time. Something to work on for next time she need to break into a high security building. 

Making sure not to touch anything directly—not leaving fingerprints felt like a solid choice—she remotely popped the lock on the door. Carefully pushing it open, she peeked down the hallway and then beckoned Oliver to follow. 

"We’ll take the freight elevator down to the lowest level.” 

They waited a moment for it to arrive, squeaking and groaning with a floor shaking rumble. She winced over the noise. Perhaps the main elevator would have been the stealthier option, but the freight elevator was closer to where they were going and didn’t have a camera she’d have to take the time to loop. As long as the guards kept to their schedule, no one should be close enough to hear it.

Somewhat surprisingly, the plan was going as planned–even if she’d never thought she’d ever actually execute it. She’d dabbled on the edges of the law and yes, skated well over them at times when it came to her hacking, but that was different. She was queen of the cyber world. Here in real life, well, this was probably the most reckless thing she’d ever done. And she was doing it with glitter in her hair. Her mother would be proud.

“Don’t worry,” Oliver reassured her as the elevator rattled its way down the levels, “if we get caught, I’m sure Mom will spring us by Monday.”

“Cold comfort when it’s your mother I’m worried will find out.”

“Losing faith in her inner goodness?”

“No but God, it would be so fracking embarrassing.” She’d had her Moira embarrassment quota filled for the month. 

“We can turn back,” he offered like it didn’t matter to him either way.

“No,” she shook her head. “This is a missing piece of the puzzle. We have to start somewhere.”

“Ok, but if we’re caught, let me do the talking.”

“You think you can talk your way out of being found in the middle of the night in one of Queen Consolidated’s secured facilities?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” A mischievous look twinkled in his eyes. “I’ll confess to luring you in for lascivious purposes. I’ll say I promised you a look at QC’s new micro hadron collider.”

Her head popped up from her phone screen. “QC’s lab got a micro hadron collider like Palmer Tech?”

Oliver grinned. “No, but good to know that would work.”

She mock scowled at him. “You are enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”

He paused, considered and smiled again. “I think I am.”

She smiled back. “Me too.”

The freight elevator slowed, loudly thundering to a stop. They went on alert. “Sub level 4. We’re here,” Felicity announced. Lights came on in their section as the doors opened and the gate rose. 

“Looks like a warehouse.” He ran his finger through the heavy dust on one of the metal grates. “A neglected one. Where exactly is here?”

“This is where defunct tech and mothballed projects go to be forgotten. Once it gets here, usually it stays here. I was with Moira on an inspection not long after Walter took the book back. It was no more than a walk through since her auditors had already made their report. In one of the last rows in this section, there were two large wooden crates. I only saw the symbol as we leaving. Moira was right there, so I couldn’t take a closer look. Without more information, I couldn’t track it in QC’s database and I’ve never had another excuse to check it out in person. It’s been my white whale since.”

She strode toward the end of the row and stopped. 

“And they are gone. Frack.”

“Are you sure we’re in the right spot? Every row looks alike to me.”

“Positive. Here, look.” She pointed at the cement floor. Among the debris left behind were plastic straps used to reinforce shipping containers. “I’m sure ones like these were wrapped around the crates.”

“What’s this?” Oliver bent and retrieved a thin, folded piece of paper. Felicity opened it held it in the light.

“It’s a work order.”

“Does it tell you where the crates were taken?”

“No, it’s a transfer from one of the holding warehouses into deep storage, not out, but,” she said, her excitement rising, “it’s dated shortly before I was here with Moira. It must have been for the crates I saw.” She scanned the rest of the information. “It doesn’t say what was stored in the crates, but there’s a project number!” She took a picture of the paper for good measure before letting Oliver pocket it.

“Should we try searching the rest of the warehouse? Maybe they only moved it to a different aisle.”

She shook her head. “They’d have no reason to move in within the warehouse but if they did, deep storage is huge. This is just one section. We don’t have the time to look everywhere. Still, in case I did get the location mixed up, you take that side and I’ll scope out these rows. Check out anything bigger than a washing machine.” 

They separated and she trotted down her rows, looking on a long shot for anything the right size. There wasn’t much that would fit the description. Most projects were not large enough to bother glancing at. The few that were the right size were ones she could easily identify. Oliver had similar results. Whatever had been stored here with the symbol on it, was gone. 

“At least you have the project number, assuming it’s accurate.”

“Yeah and why go to the trouble of moving the items, but not scrubbing the project number? Though I suppose they might have in the database. If so, I should be able to recover something.”

“Not that this hasn’t been fun, but maybe that’s a conversation we can have when we aren’t in the middle of breaking and entering?”

“You’re right. We should go.”

They risked the freight elevator again and it was lucky they did. The extra minute they gained using it had them pulling the truck out on the street moments before they saw flashlight wielding watchmen milling around. Felicity reset the cameras back to normal and they blended in with what little traffic was out that late at night. They spent the next mile checking the rearview mirrors before they concluded no one was following them. 

"Time to see if my first B&E was fruitful.” Felicity pulled up access to the QC servers and did a search on the project number. “Hmm.”

“Is that a good hmm?”

“Maybe. The good news is the project number isn’t scrubbed, but it’s locked.”

“Making it more likely it’s the one we are looking for.”

“Agreed. Why physically move it and restrict access if the project wasn’t important. And if it has any connection to the list, it’s important.”

“You can’t get into the file?”

“Not saying that, but it’s going to take more processing power than what I have on my smartphone. But that,” she said as she shut down her line to QC, “is something to worry about tomorrow. In the meantime, which do you prefer, the Grand Ritz or the Starling Shore Inn?”

****

George Patel parked his car in the apartment building lot a block away from his destination. The silver Buick he drove in Starling City was deliberately nondescript. Even in walking out of the lot, he passed three or four clones. He’d slip in and out without attracting any attention just like he’d done many times in the last couple weeks. He pulled the hood of his black sweatshirt forward a little while keeping a sharp eye out in case anyone stumbling home from the bar was looking for trouble. 

He was careful, but not worried. He could take care of himself; he’d had to learn after his father was killed and the life he’d led stolen from him. The last three years had been brutal, especially when his mother cut him off as well. Work in the real world for a while, she’d said. His house of cards wasn’t going to last the 5 years he needed before for his trust fund kicked in. But he was going to get back everything taken from him. And more. He was going to do what his father couldn’t. It was his destiny. And it all started tonight.

He double checked that his gun was securely tucked in his belt. He’d had it specially crafted to fit his grip. They promised him it was balanced and weighted perfectly for swift and accurate fire. The guys at the firing range wouldn’t say it, but they were all jealous. Jealous enough to rig his target so his shots were always just off center. Yeah, he was on to them. Some even laughed when he told them how much he’d spent, but the extra expense was worth the confidence it gave him to walk alone through the Glades, long after midnight. 

He stuck to the shadows, coming up behind the row of single story townhomes. The backyards were each separated by wood slat fences, but for him, they were easily scaled. He probably was a good as any of those on YouTube doing parkour. 

Out of habit, he went over the wall belonging to the empty unit next door to the one he ultimately was headed to tonight. He’d been skeptical at first about the value of sticking eyes and ears inside the house of Moira Queen’s secretary. All he’d seen was Merlyn going into her place a jittery ball of nerves and coming out relaxed. He assumed he got laid, but his associate had a different theory. 

Turned out Felicity Smoak had a rep for taking care of the Queens and Merlyn in other ways. When you had that kind of money, there was always someone willing to solve your problems. George had that when he was growing up. Should still have it without having to promise away half the golden goose. It was meant for him. He was the one his father told before he was murdered. 

Had things gone the way they should have, Felicity Smoak would have been working to fix his problems, not the Queen’s, not Merlyn’s. 

He glanced at the back door of the empty unit. There was police tape on it. Huh, so the control freak had been right about pulling the monitoring equipment. He’d let it happen but under protest. He’d come to enjoy the feeds, discovering a voyeuristic inclination he’d never known about before. 

There was a God like power in the observation, knowing the Queen family fixer had no idea he was privy to every move she made in the supposed privacy of her home. After almost two weeks of watching, he’d decided she probably had just fucked Merlyn. But then Friday happened. He wasn’t going to let anyone get in his way. And anyone that tried, were going to pay the price. 

He left the empty townhome and climbed the divider leading into the next backyard. The back door was locked and the broken window boarded. It was easy work getting past the board, but it told him he was the first to arrive. His checked the time impatiently. He was an important man. He shouldn’t be standing around waiting for anyone. 

He reached inside the broken window and unlocked the back door as easily as he had the night before. What a blast that had been. He was trying new things and discovering so much about himself, really growing as a person. He’d let the professional take the lead at first when they searched the place. Dad taught him that. Pay for the best and learn what they know. Well, pay them if you couldn’t get the information for free. He snickered. It was his legacy, why should he share with the hired help?

After they’d looked through Smoak’s unit, they were supposed to move on to Queen’s, but fuck, the methodical way of doing things had been so boring. He hung back to leave the message his expert planned, weird as it was. Then, he got down to having some real fun. He chuckled to himself softly. He was always surpassing his teachers. 

He looked at his watch again. Since he was stuck waiting, George walked back through the destroyed townhome, admiring the passion he saw in his work and reliving the rush he’d felt as he’d left more than just a cryptic message on a mirror about some stupid book. The bitch could have ruined everything. Destroying everything she owned wasn’t enough. She deserved some of his special attention. He’d already fantasized about it. As he’d sliced her clothes, he’d imagined he was slashing the knife into her disloyal flesh. The rush he’d felt had been intense.

He made a decision. Once the next stage of his plan was done, he’d come back to Felicity Smoak’s little home on the edge of the Glades and experience the real thing. He deserved a reward as much as she deserved to be punished.

Anticipation spiked in his veins, leaving him even more impatient to find what he needed and move to the next phase. On the phone, he’d been told the key to everything was still here in her townhome. He couldn’t imagine where. George shook his head, sadly. Maybe his associate hadn’t been as much an expert as he’d assumed. 

There had been signs. Hadn’t he been the one putting in all the real work? What was gathering information and making the plan compared to taking all the risks? He’d been the one that reeled Merlyn in with the partnership agreement. He’d handled the break-ins at Verdant, not to mention the accidents and other acts of sabotage. Hell, he’d almost been caught once and had his associate even been sympathetic? No. They yelled at him for going back again. And now they were obsessed with this book/list thing. 

It was a shame. He’d made the hire based on such glowing recommendations. Even if the final piece of the puzzle wasn’t here, their partnership at an end.

He left the master bedroom. With his senses still keen from absorbing his fine work, he noticed in the hallway that the paneling he’d assumed was decoration came with hinges. He paused beside it, excitement rising in his chest. Was this where the key was hidden? Maybe he didn’t need to wait for anyone. 

He pulled the panel open wide, but all he saw was towels. A linen closet? He was getting ready to dump out the contents when the front door started to open. He ducked out of sight into the bathroom, only the damn floor was slick with whatever had been in all those bottles and he had to grab the door to keep from going down. It banged loudly against the wall.

“George, you can come out. I already saw you. Heard you, too.” A familiar voice muttered. Were they mocking him? 

“You’re late,” he accused, going on the defensive. “Deals off, I found the linen closet. I’ll find the key myself.” 

“I’m willing to bet you won’t, not without my help.”

“And in exchange you want—”

“You already know what I want.”

“Fine,” he said and beckoned them forward like a bored king. He’d let them dig it out and then, yeah, then, he’d settle his account. Permanently. “Let’s get this done with.”

“Just what I was thinking.” 

***

In the end, Oliver and Felicity chose the Starling Shore Inn because of the bay view, though ultimately, neither of them spent much time contemplating the scenery. Still riding the high of getting in and out of QC’s Applied Science building undetected, as soon as they latched the hotel door, they came together in a hot clash of need and adrenaline and then fell into an exhausted slumber. Oliver woke her before sunrise for round two, his mouth doing things that melted her bones and left her panting before she rose above him and rode in the awakening dawn, bathed in the golden light bouncing off the glistening harbor.

She woke again a little later, curled against Oliver’s heat, her inner alarm clock too ingrained to ignore. She slipped away, used the bathroom and then, since walking around naked in a strange place always feels extra strange, wrapped a towel around herself. She paused and absorbed the inviting picture still waiting for her in bed. 

The comforter had been pushed off the end of the mattress. Oliver was lying on his back, unconscious to the world, with only a white sheet draped low over his hips. One muscled arm was raised and bent to shield his eyes from the bright sun and the other flung out across the empty half of the bed like he was seeking something missing.

Not something; someone. Her. 

Her heart squeezed in longing even as heat prickled along her skin. It was hard to separate the different ways she wanted this man. For now, she concentrated on the least complicated one. 

She shed her towel, knelt on the edge of the mattress and crawled closer until she could press a kiss to that spot peeking out just above his hip bone and then followed down the absurdly sexy inguinal crease aka the “Manly V”, “Adonis’s Belt”, or her favorite; “Michelangelo’s Muscle”. She traced the angle with the soft brush of her lips and the heat of her breath until the sheet got in her way. Then she adjusted trajectory and pressed kisses horizontally along his lower abdomen.

Oliver stirred, breathing deep. She worked her way up past the shadowed indentation of his belly button, kissing and caressing his precisely cut abs. His workouts mattered a great deal to him, for control, not because he needed to attract attention, but to not to show her appreciation for the side effects would be simply rude. And she knew how much social graces mattered to the Queens.

She continued on her way to his smooth chest, spending time teasing his hard, flat nipples. He stirred again, the only warning she had before he suddenly hauled her the rest of the way up his body and reversed their positions so he hovered over her, lightly pressing her body into the mattress. 

Bracing most of his weight on his elbows, he sunk his hands into her hair, cradling her head while his blue eyes wandered her face like he was marveling at the sunrise they’d been too busy to watch earlier. A sweet ache spread through her chest as she stared back into his eyes. The more complicated part of her longing returned. 

His thumb caressed her cheek and then his mouth descended over hers, a slow, greedy kiss, deepening as they melted more into each other, limbs tangling like their tongues. She wanted to drink him in, sup the sensuous feast he offered in body and spirit and every other poetic expression she was suddenly inspired to unleash. She should have been an English Major. But could any words express how warm and good she felt? How warm and good he made her feel?

They stayed like that, lost in an endless kiss that smoothly transitioned to more heated touches until Oliver shifted again and she welcomed him as he pressed deep inside. She whimpered in pleasure and arched to meet him, her head falling back and her breath catching as he lightly kissed and nipped her neck. They rocked together until the desperate bliss rolled over them. 

She stroked his neck and back as they came down from their high. Their kiss afterward was another kind of intimacy, soft and deep but not meant to arouse. Their heartbeats slowed and seemed to beat in time until utter, total relaxation had her sliding back into sleep.

She awoke to Oliver slipping back into bed, pulling her into his arms, placing a kiss on the crown of her head and urging her to resume use of his chest as a pillow. She let out a contented sigh at the slow, sweeping stroke of his broad hand along her spine. Her skin tingled at his touch, but she was too comfortable to chase the heat. 

“What time is it?”

“Almost 11. We both needed the sleep.”

She turned her head to look at Oliver. His stubble was dark and thick, his gaze soft and open. “Thank you,” she said. 

A vee formed between his eyebrows. “For what?”

She paused, unsure what she wanted to say. She shook her head and laid it back on his chest. “Maybe just for being here.” 

Last night, their little detour to Applied Science hadn’t been the most sensible of choices but Oliver had quickly followed her lead. He’d asked a few questions but never for a moment dismissed her plan as crazy even if a spur of the moment break in was a little crazy. Ok, a lot crazy.

“I’m exactly where I want to be.”

She pressed a kiss to his chest, knowing he meant it. He’d proved himself as a partner since she’d dragged him home, trusting her to know what she was doing, but not leaving all the burdens on her shoulders. If anything, Oliver came with an overdeveloped sense of responsibility, one that in the past, it seemed, had led him into isolation. At least now they were done with him leaving for her own good. Now even when he’d spoke of her walking away from the growing risks, he’d planned on flying away with her.

Their relationship was set up to be temporary, but she’d been in serious relationships where she’d felt alone all the time. She was used to being the one juggling the hard parts by herself. The one supposed to solve the problems or worse, having to constantly convince him she knew what she was doing. Last night, she’d tried to let go of her problems and then when distraction proved fleeting, tried to regain the sense of control she’d lost after the break in to her place with a break in of her own. 

“Thank you for taking care of the clean up, for our places. I’m not…It’s not easy for me to rely on other people.” But he was making it almost too easy to lean on him. 

There weren’t many people in her life she trusted and even fewer that she didn’t keep compartmentalized. Like Curtis and the start-up. He was a good friend; they got along well, laughed a lot, and worked brilliantly together, but instinctively, she never considered sharing with him the more complicated parts of her life. But with Oliver, she found herself opening up all parts of her life to him. Knowing this thing between them came with a time limit was more than a little daunting, and yet, she wasn’t holding back.

“I haven’t done much yet.”

It didn’t matter. He’d done enough just by becoming the man he was.

“But you will. I trust you.”

*** 

Oliver waited outside of the townhomes a discrete distance while Felicity finished talking with her insurance agent before he began his inspection. The agent had called shortly after they’d gotten out the shower. Felicity talked to him and arranged a walk-through of the damage to her property for just as soon as they had been able get there. Oliver was on the phone with his rental agency hoping he’d automatically checked the box for insurance to cover all the furniture and accessories that had been destroyed. He probably had. He’d learned his lesson on rental cars long ago. He hung up when the recording once again rerouted him to voicemail. It would have to wait until Monday. 

Felicity shook her insurance representative’s hand and walked back to where Oliver waited by the truck. 

“Well, at least that was quick,” she said sipping the latte they’d picked up on the way to the meeting.

“He’s all set?” 

Felicity nodded.

“They have my itemized list of possessions already on file and the agent said he can handle the walk through on his own. I warned him about the closet in the master.” She glanced down at the clothes she was wearing and shook her head at the lime green sneakers, grey sweats and the brightly colored, graphic tee that she’d pulled from her gym bag. At least it was clean and untainted. “I’ll need to do a little power shopping to get some basics before work tomorrow.

“I don’t know,” he said, a smile curving his lips. “Rosie and her ‘We Can Do It!’ spirit are perfect for the construction biz.” 

“Well, spirit is all they are going to get from me if they want the walls to be straight.”

“Not a natural hammer and nails kind of girl?”

“More like circuit boards and memory cards. Built my first computer at 7.”

“I think Rosie would be impressed.”

“Good, because that has to be our first stop.” She waved her smart phone. “If I’m going to break the restrictions on our project file, I’m going to need more powerful equipment.”

“Point me where to go and I’ll…” He trailed off as Felicity’s insurance adjuster came rushing out of her front door. He was pale and kind of green looking, holding his hand over his mouth and gagging. Halfway down the front walk, he bent over and put his head between his legs, practically hyperventilating. Oliver frowned. The spoiled food and other mess left in her bedroom weren’t perfume, but he was surprised the smell was that overpowering after only a day. 

“Mr. Johnson, are you ok?” Felicity asked.

He shook his head and still bent over, pointed behind him. “The bathroom. Call the police.”

“The police were already called. You have their report on file.”

“No, no. Call the police,” he repeated and pointed more vigorously. “A man. Inside.” 

Oliver rushed past him and threw open the front door. Inside, he hurried through her living room. He stopped in the hallway and carefully peered into the main bathroom. A pool of blood mixed with the shampoo and other products already congealing on the floor. It created a kind of starburst pattern that would have been artistic if the artist that created it wasn’t a man lying face up with a slim, bloody puncture beneath his jaw. 

Felicity rushed in a moment later, calling his name.

“You don’t want to come in here,” he said. “It’s no one we know,” he said when she didn’t listen to him. 

Felicity stared at the man on her bathroom floor. “Actually, we do. That’s George Patel, Tommy’s business partner.”


	25. Chapter 25

Once again, they called and waited for the police. This time they came with their sirens on. 

A crowd of curious bystanders, reporters, and news crews pressed against the wooden barricades set up by the police. They shouted questions any time someone stepped too close. Any hope Moira’s dry statement yesterday would quell interest about the Queen family and Felicity was gone. Too many events had piled on. The press would be relentless now. 

The detectives already handling the shooting and yesterday’s break in arrived with an agenda. They took a statement from Mr. Johnson and let him leave, but questioned them repeatedly. When asked if they knew the victim, Felicity’s answer momentarily surprised Oliver, but he rolled with it and agreed he’d never met the man before. He didn’t think it would have mattered whose body was found. For a while, the detectives seemed ready to bring him in for further interrogation even after he and Felicity alibied each other.

The ME on scene put Patel’s death somewhere between three AM and dawn. They would have been firmly tucked in at the hotel by then, but it took confirming their time at Verdant and when he checked in at the Starling Shore Inn before they were allowed to go. 

Backing his truck through the mob of paparazzi was tricky and the delay gave some the time to jump in their vehicles and follow them. There was no way to shake them in the city, so he headed to the one place it wouldn’t matter. Power shopping would have to wait. 

When the gates of the Queen mansion closed behind them, Oliver felt as much locked in as the press was locked out. Being back at the mansion wasn’t what either of them wanted, but with a murderer now added to the mix, he wasn’t willing to take unnecessary chances without a good reason.

Marcus, ever vigilant, opened the door before Felicity could knock and, out of nowhere, Thea swooped in and gave each of them a hug as if she hadn’t seen them in months.

“Oh my God! Is it true? You found a dead body?”

“Technically, my insurance rep found him. I wonder if my rates will go up.”

“Yes,” Oliver answered Thea, “he was inside Felicity’s place.” 

“Did we know who it was?”

“About that,” Felicity pulled Thea a few more steps away to ensure no one was listening, “have you talked to Tommy since last night?”

“No,” Thea shook her head. “Not even so much then. Verdant closed about an hour and a half after you guys left. I helped a bit with the clean-up, but I was out of there by two-thirty. Tommy was on his phone the whole time.”

“Any idea who with?”

“Ah, I know he talked to some local hotel managers. Tommy was still trying to find Patel. Mostly though, I think Tommy was leaving messages on the guy’s phone.” 

“What kind of messages?” Oliver asked, though he had a pretty good idea.

“The ‘call me back, I need to see you, you dirty snake’ kind. Tommy was pissed. You know how upset he was.” Thea crossed her arms and frowned. “Why are you asking all these questions?”

“One more thing. Do you have any idea where Tommy is now? He’s not answering his phone.”

“I would have thought still asleep at Verdant. What’s going on?” 

Oliver exchanged a glance with Felicity and then gently held Thea by her shoulders. “The man they found dead in Felicity’s townhome was Tommy’s business partner.”

She blanched. “Oh God! You aren’t suggesting that Tommy had anything to do with that! I mean, he was flipping out, but Tommy is not a killer.”

“We’re more worried about what the police are going to think when sooner or later they make the connection.”

A throat cleared behind them.

“Pardon me for interrupting, but Mrs. Queen has requested to see you on arrival.”

“Me?” Oliver asked.

“Both you and Ms. Felicity. In her study.”

That was never a good sign.

“You guys go,” Thea urged. “Mom’s in a weird mood again; you don’t want to keep her waiting. I’ll keep trying Tommy.”

Thea ran off and Marcus patiently directed them toward his mom’s office. A new form of claustrophobia set in. He felt like a kid about to be read the riot act for skipping school. Not that his parents had ever cared if he’d skipped school, but according to the movies, they should have. 

Felicity smoothed her pony tail and tugged Rosie’s face nervously. She gave him a wan smile.

“I don’t normally even wear jeans around your mother.”

He took her hand and squeezed it. “We’ll be fine.” She took a deep breath and nodded, calming, at least outwardly. He felt better in saying it as well; he liked being a “we”. That was new.

The French doors leading into his mother’s study were open but not entering his father’s study without permission was one of the few rules that had been enforced in the Queen household. Oliver paused and knocked on the door frame. His mother sat behind the large oak desk, reading a letter. Without a greeting or even a glance, she waved them in. 

Irritation surged in him as they entered, sat and waited. And waited some more.

His mother let the moment stretch near to breaking before she set down the letter, laced her fingers together, and frowning, looked up. Her voice was deceptively placid.

“Three days. Three interviews with the police. On three, separate matters, this last one involving a murdered man.”

“I see you’ve been paying attention, Mother.” Hot indignation went to war with the ever present guilt inside him. Yes, his return stirred things up, but his mother was acting as if he’d gone on a weekend bender. It scraped at his temper. His mother continued on as if he’d not spoken. 

“Every local channel is reporting it. It’s inescapable. It’s the past all over again. Not since—”

“Not since when?” The question came out sharply. “Since I was tried and convicted every day of my own father’s murder? The press talked about you, too. ‘Moira Watch’ they called it. A daily reminder that Moira Queen never once came to the defense of her son.”

His mother’s spine stiffened and her precise posture became militant. 

“Don’t be insolent. You may be a grown man but while you are under my roof—”

“Your rules?” Oliver interjected with a chilling smile. “I’d apologize but circumstances have been beyond my control. Imagine though, the different circumstances if eight years ago you _had_ spoken in my defense. Perhaps Welrose’s daughter wouldn’t have tried to kill Felicity over what you let everyone believe I’d done.” His tone had gone deadly soft. His voice, dropping nearly to a growl. His mother merely raised a perfectly arched eyebrow and waited. 

“Are you quite through?”

He seethed and for a moment he wanted to be done with his mother’s ice cold deceit so badly that he could feel his muscles tensing, readying for him to stand and walk away forever. Then Felicity gently covered the hand clenched on his thigh. Her soft, warm touch was enough to remind him he had bigger concerns than his mother’s perfidy. As much as he wished he could walk out that door, right now the mansion was the safest place for Felicity. 

His mother took his silence as a yes. 

“As I was saying, I freely offer you the sanctuary of my home, but I expect to be shown a proper measure of respect and courtesy.”

“Moira, no disrespect was intended,” Felicity began. He was grateful she answered since he didn’t yet trust his ability to speak. “I hate the attention and all the vile speculation rehashing the past, but there was nothing we could have done to predict or prevent any of this. After the break in, I certainly never expected anyone to be murdered in my bathroom.”

Addressing Felicity, some of the stiffness in his mother’s voice left.

“I’m not talking about any of that. You didn’t come home last night and while you both may come and go as you please, in the future I expect the courtesy of being informed of a change to your plans. Having to hear from one of my maids that the police had been called to your residence to investigate the death of…of a man in his thirties and...” Moira’s voice wavered and broke. 

Moira looked away, abruptly reaching for and opening a slim folder and studying the contents like it urgently needed her attention, but when she did, a fine tremor shook the cream colored file. Shock replaced Oliver’s anger as he saw his mother struggle to control her emotions. 

She found her voice before he did. “In the future, I’d prefer to avoid any misunderstandings.”

Still stunned, it was again left to Felicity to respond. She stretched forward and squeezed Moira’s hand even as she tightened her hold on his. 

“You are right. I’m so sorry. It was thoughtless not letting you know. I won’t let that happen again. I promise.”

“This is on me,” he finally said. He couldn’t let Felicity take the blame on this. “I should have made sure you were informed.” It shook him, that flash of raw emotion. He wanted to believe this was the real woman, but he thought he’d known who his mother was before. “You will be told if in the future plans change.” For now, the promise was moot. They weren’t going anywhere. 

“Good. Now, Felicity, given the state of your wardrobe, I took the liberty of having a few things picked up for you to wear.” And like that, Moira was briskly back to her normal self.

“Thank you. I was concerned about what I’d wear Monday.”

“Yes, about that.” Moira leaned back and once again folded her hands. She looked at them with nothing but the cool detached gaze of a CEO. “I believe it would be in the Foundation and the project’s best interests if, for now, you allow someone else to oversee construction. I fear the distraction with the paparazzi would prove too much at this time.”

He was back to being irritated, but she also had a point. He steeled his expression to indifference.

“That’s fine. I’ll make the arrangements.”

Subtle tension left Moira’s shoulders. She’d clearly expected more of a fight.

“Yes, well, then, if you would excuse me, I have a phone call I need to make. Please close the doors on your way out.” 

Dismissed, they left her office. 

“She’s very good at that,” Felicity sighed as they walked down the hallway. “And I thought Jewish mothers had the market cornered on guilt trips. Also, did we just get fired?” 

Thea intercepted them in the front living room before he could decide.

“Tommy still isn’t answering his phone. I sent Roy to go wake him up.”

He frowned at his little sister. “_You_ sent Roy?” 

“Is that a problem?”

He slowly shook his head. “Just surprised you had his number.” 

“Oh, I’ve got his number, alright.” Thea smirked and walked away. 

He frowned again. Beside him, Felicity laughed. He glanced at her. “Why do I get the feeling I don’t want to know what that means?” Rationally, he’d understood Thea had grown up, but somehow he hadn’t thought about her growing up in every way. He planned never to think about it again.

“I’d trust your gut on that.” Felicity took pity on him and changed the subject. “It can’t be a random coincidence that George Patel ended up at my place. There had to be a reason. The police said it looked like he came in the back, like the break in the night before. Returning to the scene of the crime, maybe?” she offered. “And think about it, if he was the one that installed the surveillance, he would have found out on Friday I was digging into his deal with Tommy. He’d have heard about the list as well.”

Oliver nodded; she was on to something. “The break-in would have given Patel and whoever he was working with a chance to look for the list. When that failed, they grabbed the computers to try to see what you’d found. I’ll talk to Diggle and make sure the police compare the DNA found earlier against Patel. Speaking of coincidences, I’m also having trouble believing there’s an uninvolved third party out there that fed Carina Welrose information.”

“You think Patel sent her info? How would launching Carina after you lead to helping him secure Verdant?”

“I don’t know, but before Patel showed up dead, I wouldn’t have guessed he’d have known about the list either. I suspect there’s a lot we don’t know.”

“I hate that.” Felicity thought for a moment. “Well, we do know that whoever primed and sent Carina is ok with murder. And now Patel is dead. I’m not sure if Patel then should be out of running for pulling the trigger on Carina since someone clearly pulled one on him.” She shook her head. “Well, not trigger, because not a gun in his case, though he had one. Which supports him knowing his killer since it was still in its holster.”

“And he had his guard down enough to let them get close enough to cut his throat.”

She nodded, but made a correction. “It wasn’t a slice to the carotid artery. No arterial spray. If I had to guess how he was killed, they probably used a long, thin, and extremely sharp knife used like an ice pick, up from the soft pallet,” she mimicked the sharp thrust upward, “through the nasal cavity, into the brain pan. Give it a little stir and—” 

“Felicity,” he said her name softly, but pained. “I think I have the gist.”

She winced. “I’ve watched too many autopsy shows, haven’t I?”

“I’m thinking so.”

“Ok, back to motive then. If Patel broke in before, why come back? They took every tablet and computer. They had all the time they wanted to search the place. What could he, and maybe whoever killed him, have been looking for?”

“Maybe nothing. Maybe it was just a place to meet. The townhomes were unlivable for a few days and it’s the Glades. No one is paying attention.”

“And if someone does, they know better than to say anything.”

Oliver nodded. “The police were done with the scene. Who would think they’d return? And if say the intent all along is to frame Tommy for Patel’s murder, Tommy’s connection to you helps that along, but that still doesn’t explain why someone would kill Patel. It seems unnecessarily complicated to just to frame Tommy.”

“Especially when he’d already signed the partnership agreement. Though Tommy wasn’t going to just go along with being conned at this point, but us being onto the scheme doesn’t seem like enough reason to pull the plug on Patel.”

“It might be simpler than that. Leaving DNA of any kind was a huge mistake. Maybe whoever he was working with decided to cut their losses and tie up loose ends.”

“Great, so now all we have to do is find whoever he was working with. We need more information. I need a computer.”

“There’s one in the library or you should be able to borrow Thea’s.”

“No, neither will be any better than Tommy’s. I need a computer built to my specifications. Maybe I can get Curtis to—” She stopped mid-sentence and pivoted back toward the kitchen.

“Felicity?”

“I have an idea of where I can get what I need right away.”

He followed her through the dining room to the kitchen. She didn’t stop but went on through toward the back hallway. 

“Marcus is usually in his office this time of day,” she explained as she knocked on the door. Oliver waited to see how that would net her the equipment she needed.

“Come in.”

“Hi.”

Marcus rose from behind his very orderly desk.

“May I help you with something, Miss?”

“I was hoping for a favor. I know classes at Caltech start in a couple weeks, but any chance you haven’t yet given your niece the laptop I customized?” 

“Actually, yes. She doesn’t return from backpacking around Europe until Wednesday.”

“Is it here? Could I borrow it for a little while?”

“Of course, Miss.”

Felicity retreated with her prize through the breakfast room and then turned toward the conservatory. She dragged a table closer to one of the lounge chairs, though not THE lounge chair, and set down the innocuous looking machine. From the gleam in her eyes, appearances were deceiving. She loving ran her fingertips over the brushed metal exterior. 

“Hello lovely. We meet again.”

Maybe it was the location stirring up memories, but he’d swear she wore the same lustful look gazing at the computer as when they’d been making love. He shifted his stance; his jeans suddenly felt a little tight.

“Ok,” she said with a predatory smile, “let’s take you out for a spin.” 

He watched her fingers take control of the keyboard and Felicity quickly sink into her world. There was beauty in her movement. Elegance in her focus.

She stopped and shot him a look up through her glasses. 

“Could you not watch me the whole time? Maybe get yourself a cup of coffee or something?” 

He repressed a smile and headed back to the kitchen. 

“Thank you!” she called out. 

He skipped the coffee and instead went around through the library and outside onto the patio, deciding to walk the parameter of the grounds while he made calls to take care of his replacement on site. He passed the gym just as he completed his call. The release of a hard workout called to him, but he didn’t want to start what he might not have time to finish. 

With nothing left but his thoughts for distraction, guilt for making his mother worry chewed on his conscience. 

He rubbed his hands over his face. It was impossible to separate the mother he’d grown up with and the woman he suspected she really was. Every time he was certain she was one thing, some action or look would make him start doubting all over again. His mother was capable of manipulation, lies, and a cold resolve that was nearly frightening. None of that he doubted. But her fear that he’d been the dead man reported at Felicity’s home had been real. 

Circumstantial evidence pointed to his mom having a hand in his father’s death. Of purposely letting him take the blame. She knew about the list. She’d secretly recovered the Gambit using embezzled money to conceal what she’d done. Her own husband divorced her after he received death threats. Moira Queen was involved. And yet, when he looked into his mother’s eyes, he was transported back to his childhood. The mother he knew was still in there. She still cared. Still loved him in her own controlling way.

None of which proved her innocence, but maybe Felicity was right and someone had been behind his mother, pulling the strings. God, he wanted that to be true. It couldn’t have been Patel, he was too young, too new on the scene, but he was connected somehow as well. Then there was whoever killed Patel, but whoever killed Patel was far too hands on to be fit the MO of the original mastermind. That job Felicity still believed had fallen to Malcolm Merlyn.

So far, their only real link to him was Felicity’s suspicions, which carried a lot of weight, but where was the proof? And they still didn’t know how the strange symbol in the front of his father’s list fit. With her borrowed, more powerful computer, hopefully Felicity would be able to crack the firewalls guarding the project number and find the connection. 

He circled the estate and then headed back to the conservatory to check on Felicity’s progress. He entered from the outside and heard voices before he ever rounded the corner. Felicity had company.

Thea, Roy and Tommy lounged, sat, and paced—respectively—around the pool. No one was staring at Felicity as she continued her work, but Tommy sent an agitated glance her direction each time he completed a length.

“Tommy, would you just stop pacing. You are driving me nuts.”

“You try sitting still when you’ve been framed for murder.”

“So where did you get rid of it?” Thea asked.

Oliver frowned. Seems he was behind.

“Get rid of what?” he asked. Everyone but Felicity turned toward him. Thea popped up from where she was sprawled and ran to him, proving her relaxed state was a pose. She threw her arms around him and gave him a hug. Then she smacked him on the arm.

“Where have you been?”

“Oww. I was gone for fifteen minutes. What’s going on? Get rid of what?”

“The knife. Someone planted a bloody knife in Tommy’s car. The man at Felicity’s place, he had his throat slit, right?”

Close enough. Thea didn’t need to know the details. Oliver released Thea. “Tommy?”

Tommy turned and paced in a new direction. “It was in my trunk. I’ve never even used my trunk, but Roy showed up pounding on the office door—thanks again Thea for giving him the key and code—and I thought maybe I might end up staying at the mansion…”

Roy snickered. “He said his back hurt from the foldout couch.” 

Tommy glared at him and continued. “…so I packed a bag. When I popped the trunk, there was this rust stained cloth tucked around something. The knife was inside. One of those long, thin, and wickedly sharp looking ones you see them using at sushi places.”

“A sashimi knife?”

“If you say so. I don’t know kind of knives but it was kind of fancy looking. The top of the blade had these hammer marks.”

Felicity looked up from her screen. “That type of blade, the length and edge matches the weapon the police are looking for. The killer must have brought it with them. I didn’t have anything like that in my kitchen.”

Oliver blew out a sigh. “I did. Damascus steel. Went through salmon like butter. Where is it now?”

“Eww!!” Thea exclaimed. “Don’t tell me you want it back?” Oliver ignored her.

“Someone,” Tommy pointedly looked at Roy, “strongly suggested I toss it over the dam. The spillways should have washed it out to the harbor by now.”

Oliver frowned. He wasn’t sure if ditching the weapon was smart or not. What if someone saw him? “If anyone askes, do you have an alibi for last night?”

“I didn’t leave the club until Roy showed up this morning.”

“I don’t suppose there was anyone that kept you company that could verify it.”

“I was too busy leaving incriminating messages on Patel’s phone to worry about a hook up.”

“How bad?”

Tommy rubbed his forehead. “Most of them are a blur. Standard stuff, make him pay, won’t let him get away with this, but I couldn’t just leave it there, no. I’m sure I demanded to meet and talk oh, yeah, I distinctly recall saying something to the effect of I’d see him dead before letting him get his hands on Verdant.” 

Thea groaned. Roy winced. Oliver wanted to do the same. 

“Oh, it’s bad. I know it’s bad. And there’s a cherry on top of all of that. I know in the contract I signed, whatever else it might have said, it says if either one of us dies, we inherit each other’s shares. He was insistent about that. So how’s that for motive? I’m screwed.” Tommy started pacing again.

“Wait, Patel put that in your partnership agreement?” Thea asked, incredulous.

“It’s not that unusual actually,” Oliver said, “but I think it’s safe to say Patel had a more permanent back-up plan in case merely swindling Tommy didn’t work out.”

“You really think he was willing to kill him…over a night club? Is a couple million dollars really worth the hassle?”

Roy snorted, incredulous. “You’re kidding, right? Princess, people get killed in the Glades for the price of dinner.”

“But Patel wasn’t from the Glades. He was from New York.”

“You think New York doesn’t have its own Glades?”

“I know it does, but Tommy, didn’t you say Patel told you he played water polo back in prep school. Guy came from money.” 

“If he was telling the truth. He lied about everything else.”

“Speaking of which,” Felicity said, joining the conversation. “I did some further digging and Tommy, as far as I can tell, the competing bid on the neighboring property isn’t real. I tracked it back to a shell company Patel set up. The offer is nothing but paper. Looks like George Patel created the crisis solely so he could be the one to swoop in and make you an offer you didn’t want to refuse.”

“And the other investors…”

Felicity nodded, her pony tail bobbing with her head. “It’s as we thought. Only Patel existed.”

Tommy’s slumped forward. “How could I be so stupid? Verdant was a success, but no, I wasn’t satisfied. None of this could have happened if I hadn’t been so bent on proving myself. And to who? My dead, possibly evil, father and his post-breathing hoops. I don’t even care about my inheritance.”

No one said anything for a minute and then Thea piped up.

“At least if no one is really after the other property, it should be waiting for you when you actually want it.”

“Which is looking more and more like twenty to life.” Tommy leaned in behind Felicity’s shoulder, peering at the screen. “Did you find anything else about Patel?”

"Not sure if any of it’s helpful. Thea was right about him coming from money. His mother, Lydia, formerly Windmiller out of Long Island, came with a fortune of her own. When George was ten, she had enough of married life, though she never divorced, and moved with her son back to the East Coast. George still regularly saw his father in the summer and on holidays right here in Starling City. Typical long distance custody set up. His dad, Warren Patel, didn’t come from money originally but made his first billion by the time he was thirty-one. 

“But here’s the interesting part. He was part of that string of CEO’s killed a few years back in Starling City, though he weirdly was killed by an arrow instead of the equally weird poison laced bullets that took out the other men. After Warren Patel’s death, some memos were leaked that strongly suggested he might have been the one that arranged the other murders as a way to eliminate the competition for an upcoming business accusation.”

Thea wrapped her arms around her middle. “I remember that. I was there when Walter almost got shot. Mom and Walter dragged me along for some pre-auction photo-op with the happy family and suddenly, a sniper was taking out the bidders. Walter’s bodyguard got him out of the path of the bullet, but the bodyguard got hit. Just a nick, but Mom and Walter freaked out later because the guy died anyway.”

“The company being auctioned off at the Exchange Building was Unidac Industries.” Felicity shook her head. “Why does that sound so familiar?”

“The shooting was all anyone talked about for weeks. Unidac was in the headlines.”

“No, not the company. The building name.”

Same story?”

“No, it’s something else. I’m sure of it.” 

“Felicity?” Oliver said her name, hoping she could explain.

She shook her head. “It’ll come to me. Anyway, the memos were damning but legally provenance couldn’t be proven. Still, they were enough to tank the stocks and ruin the company Warren left behind. It also tanked the real estate company George Patel had set up right out of college.”

Felicity shook her head, “As far as I can tell, only his father’s investments–aka some off book money laundering–was keeping George’s business profitable. Then his father died and the dominoes fell. Patel was waiting for a trust on his mother’s side to kick in when he was 35, but in the meantime, he put together a couple of large deals, both of which fell apart before anything happened. As of George’s death, his current personal net worth was a just a little over one million. So by the standard of the crowds he once moved in, he died a pauper.”

“I’d like to be that poor,” Roy scoffed.

“Is that everything?” Tommy asked.

Oliver stepped forward. “No, we know one other thing.” He looked at Felicity. He’d gone through the pages of the book looking for something to leap out at him. Until now, he hadn’t made the connection. “Warren Patel’s name is on the list.”

“Wait, Dad’s list? You found his name in the book?” Thea asked.

“Oh God!” Felicity suddenly exclaimed. “Warren Patel. The Exchange Building. Of course, I remember now why it all sounded so familiar. It was the laptop. Before Walter ever brought me in to do some digging, my IT supervisor brought me a special project. Recovering the memory on a bullet riddled laptop.”

“Bullets? Seriously? Where’d he get that?”

“Malcolm Merlyn. Moira was doing him a favor since he didn’t think his IT people were up to the challenge. Tommy, the story I was given was you’d gotten drunk and used it for target practice.”

“This was three years ago?”

“Or so, yes.”

“I’m pretty sure I knew enough not to mix booze and bullets by then, but it’s possible, I suppose.”

Felicity shook her head. “I don’t think you had anything to do with it. The laptop in question was registered to Warren Patel, I’m sure of it, but at the time the name didn’t mean anything to me. The only thing that really stood out was all the blueprints and files on the Exchange Building. I suspect by the time rumors hit of Patel being the mastermind behind the shooting at the Exchange Building, I was too busy digging up info about the list. I never got to Warren’s name.”

“What happened with the laptop?”

“I downloaded what I could recover into a new one and then gave it and the ruined parts back to my supervisor. I assume he gave it back to Merlyn and did what he normally did, pass my work off as his own. Oh God.” She blanched.

“What is it?” Oliver came to stand by Felicity.

“The laptop.” She twisted on the lounge to face him, misery, pulling her mouth into an unnatural looking frown. He crouched in front of her and took her hands.

“What about it?”

She frowned and switching looking at him and the floor. 

“What if that’s what got Kaplan—my supervisor—killed? I was under strict instructions to recover whatever info I could, but to not look at any of it. It was all confidential I was told, but I had to look to make sure it wasn’t all scrambled. Kaplan would know that. I doubt Malcolm even knew I existed, but if Kaplan let slip ‘he’d’ seen some of the files, files that I think got Patel killed as well…” Felicity trailed off. 

Oliver recognized the shadows in her eyes. Guilt.

“Hey, you didn’t do anything wrong. If Kaplan was killed, that’s not your fault.”

“I was thinking someone framed him for my digging, something out of my control, but I don’t think anyone else could have recovered the data. If I hadn’t, then…”

“No, that’s not how it works. It’s not your fault for doing what you were asked to do.” Felicity’s mouth twisted to the side and she nodded, but he could tell she hadn’t stopped blaming herself. He hated that he didn’t know how to help her. 

Tommy broke the silence that had descended over the conservatory. He threw his hands up in the air and resumed stalking the side of the pool. “So one more circumstantial reason to believe my father was a monster.”

“Oh Tommy, I’m sorry, I—”

Tommy interrupted, “No, don’t be sorry. Maybe he really was a monster. But you know what?” He stopped pacing. “Right now, I’m less concerned about connections to the past than what connections the police are going to make in the present.”

“You’re right, you’re right.” Felicity pulled her hands from Oliver’s, sending him a brief smile, letting him know she was alright before turning back to her computer. He wasn’t sure he believed her.

Roy scoffed. “They’re going to check Patel’s messages. You already made the connection for them.”

“Not helping,” Oliver said as he straightened up.

“How much time do you think he has?” Thea asked.

Oliver looked at his friend and sighed. “I think it’s time to call your lawyer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I kind of made a bigger deal out of Felicity borrowing that computer than was needed but I was just so pleased when I wrote this. I had Felicity stuck without a computer she needed, trying to figure out how to quickly put one in her hands and then I remembered that way back during the first time Felicity was at the mansion, I'd already mentioned a customized computer she'd made that could still be in the Queen household. It was just an off hand remark at the time but suddenly it was part of the plot, lol. And it was like kismet! :D


	26. Chapter 26

Felicity let herself get lost in the code. This was what she needed to forget about her guilt in Kaplan’s death. There had been nothing directly she could do for Tommy, so she began work on breaking through the restrictions placed on the project number belonging to the mystery crates. They’d found their connection between George Patel and the list. Maybe the bigger mystery would shed some light on his death.

She was at melon ball scooper levels of security and while they probably had one at the mansion, it seemed rude to use her host’s kitchenware against her. Her alternative was either persuading Moira to go to QC to use the retinal scanner to unlock the file or convince QC’s computer’s system that she had. Felicity was about five more minutes of coding away from option two. Well, option three if she counted eyeball scooping. 

What she was doing was supposed to be impossible and it would be if she hadn’t written crucial components of the system herself. But even for her, it was proving a challenge. She’d kicked everyone out of the conservatory while she did the heavy lifting. Only Oliver hadn’t grumbled. She liked that in a man. 

And bingo! She was in.

Eagerly, she opened the mystery project file. She’d worked with and on oodles of projects at Queen Consolidated and immediately saw the file was unusually sparse on details. She skipped to the end. The last time the devices were moved was 18 months ago. Off site, as she thought, but no address listed. And an independent contractor was brought in for the transfer. She opened up another window to search the contractor. It didn’t take her long to decide they’d never existed. Disappointed, but not too surprised, she turned back to the files to see if she could mine it for other data.

An hour later, she leapt up to go searching for Oliver. She found him on her first try. He was running hard on the treadmill, sweat glistening over every inch of his skin. He looked intent so she hesitated for a moment over interrupting him. Watching and waiting for him to finish wouldn’t have been a hardship, but he caught sight of her and pulled off his headphones and slowed down.

“You don’t have to stop, but I have something. I think. Maybe. Or maybe I’m imagining connections.”

“Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

“I got into the project file. It doesn’t have any real description of what the devices are and no record of where they went. The delivery service contracted for the job didn’t even really exist, but I found out they were moved from the Applied Science Storage about 18 months ago.”

“Does that help us?”

“I think so but that’s skipping ahead. The Markov Device, that’s what the file calls it which is also a dead end description wise since Markov was the lead scientist on the project—“

“Breathe Felicity.”

She forced herself to slow down. 

“It’s a Unidac Industries project. The same Unidac Industries that CEO’s were dying over, that Warren Patel likely ordered killed via the sniper at the Exchange Building.”

“And you think this is the project worth killing over?”

“Hard to say, but what I do know is it’s the one project that, when QC acquired Unidac, had their overtime hours just go insane. And the budget…I’m not sure there was cap on the budget.”

“Did the financials break down what they built the devices out of? Could components give you a clue to what it was?

“I looked. Supplies are listed which I thought was going to be our ace, but this is a case of too much of a good thing. Seems they ordered ahead in bulk. Like they were making sure they’d immediately have anything any project might need.”

“It that normal?”

“Not even close. At the end of the project, which happened abruptly, there’s no mention of what happened to the leftovers and there had to be a lot of waste on this. And with everything already pre-expensed and no one keeping track of what was used or how much, it’s impossible to guess what they were building. I’m guessing it came back to QC around the time they began encouraging experimentation. It would explain the abundance of rare components available when Curtis and I put that chip together.”

“You said it ended abruptly? Did it say why?”

“No, but get this, when it did, they shipped the prototype and two incomplete models of whatever they made to QC’s Applied Sciences deep storage.”

“We knew that.”

“But we didn’t know it was a project at Unidac Industries. Queen Consolidated owned the company, but Unidac had their own similar storage for defunct projects. What was so special about this failed project that it wasn’t allowed to go with the rest when Unidac Industries was sold off nearly as quickly as it had been acquired?”

“Unidac was sold?”

“Making it even more likely this one project was all anyone was interested in. It has to be connected to the list somehow. I mean, we knew that because of the weird symbol but if rumors were right and Warren Patel was behind the other CEO’s killed who were also bidding on Unidac…”

“Then is it possible George Patel’s death had more to do with my father's list than we realized.”

“Agreed. I also had a thought that maybe the scientific team working on the project could fill in some blanks, but they are proving elusive. I left a search looking for them running back in the conservatory.”

He nodded, considering the new information; he then squinted his eyes at her. “You’re still bouncing inside. You have something else, don’t you?”

She beamed at him. “I do. It might be big.”

Oliver stopped the treadmill completely and took a long drink from his bottle. “Ok, hit me.”

“I found an invoice for a lock. The same kind of lock on Tommy’s door in Verdant.”

“The backdoor?”

“No, the one that leads to the basement. The supposedly flooded basement. And the installation was completed…wait for it…18 months ago. Boom!”

He stepped off the machine. “You are going to have to give me a little more.”

“The Markov devices were moved 18 months ago, and if I’m right, at the same time, the state of the art lock was installed on a 40 year old door in a Queen Consolidated holding right before the foundry was sold off.”

“You think the devices are still in Tommy’s basement?”

“Ok, I know it seem like a stretch, but he’s never even been down there. He never had the code but never cared because it’s supposed to be flooded. Which, maybe it is. I mean, I get it, why would your mom let the old foundry be sold if she was hiding some super-secret project in the basement? The whole idea is crazy, but my gut says I’m right.” 

Felicity held her breath, not sure why she was tense. Maybe it was because her whole life she’d made these kinds of intuitive leaps and had spent her whole life wasting time trying to convince those around her to trust she knew what she was talking about. 

Oliver narrowed his eyes and nodded. “We should take a look.”

She felt a wave of warmth and gratitude. Impulsively, she went up on her tiptoes, wrapped her arms around his neck, and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. He joined in but was reluctant to hold her too tightly. She must have made a noise of displeasure at his hesitancy.

“I’m all sweaty,” he explained.

“I can see that,” she said mustering all the appreciation she felt into her answer. 

“Not a problem?” He smiled against her mouth and enclosed his arms firmly around her waist.

“Soooo, not a problem.” 

“Eww, that is just not right,” Thea squealed from the doorway. 

Felicity tried to jump back but Oliver held her in place. He didn’t even glance at his sister, just continued to stare into her eyes.

“You already gave your permission, Thea. Too late to take it back.”

“This is not about permission. I just don’t want to know about Felicity’s kinks.”

Felicity jumped again at Thea’s voice. Somehow she’d already forgotten she was there. This time, Oliver let her when she tried to wiggle away. She pulled the hem of her t-shirt down and smoothed the wrinkles over Rosie’s face like it was a custom made Versace gown. 

“Is there something we can help you with, Thea?” Felicity asked, primly. Her ears felt hot. Sometimes she wanted to strangle Thea. Was this what other people felt like when she said too much? 

“Just that since we’re all here, minus Tommy, Mom has declared it mandatory family dinner night. So you’re going to want to shower and change.” She looked them up and down. “Both of you.”

Felicity turned to Oliver. “This could solve our next problem.”

“Which is?”

“I’m not exactly a safe cracker or door cracker in this case. We don’t have a code, but your mom should and the first place I’d look would be her home office.”

“Code? What are we talking about?” Thea asked.

“I’m a little lost, too,” Oliver admitted.

“For the lock on Tommy’s door,” Felicity clarified for Oliver and then they quickly filled Thea in on everything. 

Thea shook her head. “Tommy for sure doesn’t have it, I specifically asked him about that door on Saturday. If you don’t find it in mom’s office, I could look around her bedroom,” Thea offered, “but she normally doesn’t keep anything business related there. She’s big into compartmentalizing.”

Oliver nodded. “I know a few hidey holes Dad had in the office.”

“If that fails, Felicity, can you get into her computer?” Thea asked.

“Of course, but I don’t think this is something she’d keep in a computer file.” Felicity jumped back to something Thea said earlier. “Where did Tommy go?”

“He and Roy drove back to Verdant. His lawyer wanted to hash things over with him and look at his surveillance to see if those can offer an alibi. If we are going to do this before dinner, you guys need to hurry. Cocktails start in thirty minutes. Dinner is in an hour. We should be able to stall during cocktails but Ollie, you know she’ll send everyone looking if you’re late for dinner and no way is the fresh off the sweat machines look going to cut it for Mom.” Thea smirked. “That’s Felicity’s turn-on.”

Thea’s parting comment sent everyone eagerly on their way. An half hour later, on the dot, Felicity joined Thea in the salon, pointedly ignoring the smirk that still teased her friend’s lips. Moira arrived a couple minutes later. She allowed Marcus to fix her a drink and then Felicity tired distracting her while Thea sent a text to Oliver to let him know the coast was clear. For him, maybe, but as it turned out, not for Thea. Moira was eagle eyed and strict about her rules. She snatched the phone out of her daughter’s hands.

“Hey! That’s my phone!”

Felicity froze, sure Moira would glance down and read Thea’s text, but she handed it off to Marcus without a glance. 

“Thea, you know how I feel about phones at dinner.” 

Thea caught her eye and gave a slight nod to confirm she’d been able to send it at least, but without a phone, they’d have no way of warning Oliver in case Moira got away from them. They’d have to make sure that didn’t happen.

Moira glanced at the clocked impatiently. “Where is your brother?”

“He, um, was still finishing his workout when I told him. He’s probably running behind.”

“Maybe I should have someone knock on his door to speed him up.”

“No!” Thea shouted, loud enough to earn an eyebrow raise and a head tilt from her mother. I mean, wouldn’t that just slow him down?”

“Apart from doing his duty at the gala, your brother has done his very best to avoid family affairs the last two weeks. There’s no telling if he actually even plans on coming to dinner.” Moira reached for the bell pull that would summon Marcus to return. 

“Oh, he is.” Felicity quickly insisted.

Moira hesitated. “He told you as much?”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

“He told me too. He’s coming, Mom. Cut him a break. It took me a while to find him.”

Moira nodded and looked thoughtful. “Perhaps this one time we can let punctuality slide.”

Another member of the staff entered and with a brief bob, spoke to Moira. “Excuse me, but Madame, you have a phone call.”

Moira shook her head. “Whoever it is, they will have to call back.”

Moira was strict, but tried to be fair. The no phones at dinner policy applied to everyone, herself included. 

“Begging your pardon, I was told you’d wish to take the call. They said it’s involving the Applied Science Building issue you’d been discussing earlier.”

Felicity took a sip of her drink. Moira wouldn’t be able to just look at her and tell, would she? Maybe they could use the call as a distraction. 

“You should go,” Felicity suggested.

“Yeah, Mom.” Thea jumped in to help. “It’s ok if you want to take it.”

“Very well.” She set her drink down and turned to them. “Since we are not all yet in attendance.” She nodded at the maid. “Have them transfer it to my office.”

Frack. She should have known there’d be a catch. Felicity anxiously glanced at Thea. There was something heavily ironic that a call related to last night’s successful dabble in spy craft was going to be the undoing of tonight’s foray. 

Thea jumped in her mother’s path. “I changed my mind. You can’t take the call!” Moira looked taken aback. Thea scrambled. “I mean, you just confiscated my phone and now you are breaking the rules? How is that fair?”

“You told me to take it.”

“I was testing you.”

“How very amusing. Now I really must take this call.”

Moira moved to continue on her way and Thea again blocked her path.

“That’s it? Without any further discussion? That’s not fair.”

“You have made your feelings know, Thea. Now please excuse me, I have kept them waiting long enough.”

“In that case,” Felicity drifted over to casually impede her exit as well, “why not use the phone in the library? It’s still private, but right next door.”

An odd look came over Moira’s face, but she gave in. “Very well.” She spoke to the maid. “Have the call transferred to the library instead.” When Moira was gone Thea slumped heavily onto one of the loveseats. 

“Well that was too close. Of all the bad luck that someone chose last night to break into the Applied Science Building.” She glared at Felicity meaningfully.

“How was I to know where your mom would take the call? She’s never taken a call during dinner before.” 

The distraction didn’t last long. Moira returned all too soon. What was taking Oliver so long? 

“Here, I freshened up your drink, Mom.” Doubled was more like it. Felicity rolled her eyes at Thea. Did she think a stronger drink was going to make her mom, what, pass out?

“Thank you,” Moira said accepting the heavy crystal glass. She slid her eyes around the room and stated the obvious. “I see Oliver has yet to arrive.”

“I’m sure he is on his way.”

“I am less certain. It’s been my experience Oliver’s level of punctuality has always gone hand in hand with the level of prodding involved in ensuring it.” Once again Moira moved to summon someone to track him down.

“He’s not a child anymore, Moira,” Felicity spoke sharply. From her former employer’s expression, too sharply, but she was undeterred and not only because they needed to give Oliver more time. “Oliver said he would be here for dinner. He’ll get here when he can. Don’t turn a last minute dinner mandate into a power play. Not unless you want to push him away more.”

Moira’s normally cool, confidant air of detachment wavered for a moment and a hint color rose on her cheeks before one of her icy smiles resettled on her lips. “Well, my dear, you would be the resident expert on the new Oliver Queen. Do you have any other insights from your recently found…intimacy?”

Despite feeling like a sparrow suddenly in the sights of an eagle, Felicity lifted her chin and replied in equally controlled tones. “If something else comes up, I’ll be happy to share.”

Thea’s eyes were nearly bugging out of her head. “Ok, clearly you two are missing the point of cocktail hour. Drink.”

They both found themselves doing as Thea ordered, but that only seemed to shift Moira’s target. 

“Thea, when you returned home last night, you visited the kitchens before spending some time in the rear family room.”

“Are you asking if I got a snack and then watched a movie to unwind after the Club, yes, yes I did. Is there a particular reason your spies are tracking me around the house?”

“They weren’t tracking you, but the gold glitter you left behind.”

“I’m sorry. Next time I’ll shower before I spend time in any of the rooms in my home.”

“Oh it’s not that dear, I was just remarking on the coincidence.”

“Which one would that be?” Thea asked already exasperated by this line of questioning.

“Oh, just that those behind the break in last night at the Applied Science Building were very good about handling surveillance and sensors. No fingerprints either, but oddly, they left a trail of gold glitter everywhere they went, just like you did last night.”

Thea snorted. “Are you accusing me of being some kind of cat burglar in my spare time? Ok, I confess.” She set aside her drink and held out her hands, wrists together. “Take me away!”

“Your theatrics are as entertaining as ever.”

“Gee Mom, what do you expect? Either you think I broke in or you are saying I was partying with whoever did. I supposed Oliver and Felicity are next on the suspect list. Or maybe Tommy or your head of security? How do you survive, Mother, surrounding yourself with such untrustworthy souls?”

“I was not accusing anyone, merely remarking on the coincidence. Is there no safe topic open for discussion?”

“Why does it need to be safe? Why can’t we talk about what happened at the gala or what channel 52 says proves Dad was murdered? What if they’re right? What if Dad was really murdered?”

“Your brother had nothing to do with your father’s death!”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence, Mother,” Oliver said as he leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, “even if some would say it comes a bit late.” He wasn’t certain what exactly he’d walked in on, but he caught Felicity’s eye and delivered the slightest of nods. He’d found two possible codes. He gave Thea a brief hug as well before shoving his hands in the pockets of a blue suit he’d found in his closet. Seems his mother had done shopping for more than just Felicity. Like the bright yellow dress Felicity wore, the fit was impeccable.

“Oliver. How kind of you to join us.”

“Of course.”

“Can I make you a drink?” His sister asked.

“I’ll have whatever you are having.” He nodded to her clear filled charged drink. She smirked and used the tongs to add a few ice cubes to a glass, reached for the tonic water and dropped a lime in before handing it to him. He raised an eyebrow, an action she mirrored. 

“You’ve been missing all the fun. Mom has been hinting you and Felicity capped off your night at Verdant by breaking into the Applied Science Building.”

Without blinking he nodded. “Yes, well, we happened to be in the area and thought, why not?”

“Really Oliver, don’t encourage your sister.”

“My apologies.” He sipped his sparkling water. 

The exchange might have spiraled further, but dinner was announced and by some unspoken agreement, from there, conversation centered around neutral topics like the progress of construction on the Foundation project or the Fall line. They were just finishing the entrée when Marcus bent low over Moira’s shoulder.

“Excuse me, Madame, but there is something on the news that you are going to want to see.”

“Now? During dinner?”

“Yes, Madame.”

They rose from the table and followed Marcus into the library where a television was already on and tuned to channel 52. Bethany Snow was making a special report.

“That was an exclusive message from beyond the grave from Robert Queen to his then teenage daughter, Thea Queen. Yes, the same Robert Queen that Starling City lost tragically more than 8 years ago. In this second video addressed to his son, Oliver, Robert strongly implies what happened to him was no accident.”

The channel cut to a familiar video: 

_Hello Oliver..._

They watched in silence as his father once again confessed to failing the city, explaining the list, and entreating Oliver to right his wrongs. Bethany Snow returned and began asking all the questions Oliver had asked himself the first time he’d viewed the video. What terrible thing had his father done? What alliances had he made? What was the purpose behind the list? Who had the list? Had his father really known his life was in imminent danger? 

“Notably, Robert Queen’s message seems to exonerate his son from the despicable and slanderous accusations that have been made against him,” the news caster concluded. Thea scoffed and crossed her arms.

“Like Bethany Snow didn’t start her career by blaming Oliver.” Thea’s words seemed to release his mother from a trance. 

Pale and with an obvious tremor running through her hands, she didn’t bother coming up with an excuse but just quit the room. Thea chased after her. Through the doorway he heard his mother insist she was fine and just wanted to be alone. Thea came back into the library, frowning with her arms crossed and a hint of accusation in her tone when she spoke to Felicity.

“Mom is really shaken. I’m shaken. I thought your computers were all super password protected.”

“They were.” 

“I know how they got it,” Oliver announced. He looked at Felicity. “The memory stick.” He’d stupidly kept it in a drawer next to his bed in his townhome. “It was unsecured.”

“What memory stick?”

“Felicity gave it to me when we first met because I wouldn’t listen. It had Dad’s messages on it.”

“So much has happened since,” Felicity rubbed her forehead. “I forgot it was out there. I shouldn’t have forgotten.”

“Maybe,” Thea conceded, “how it got out is beside the point. I mean, it doesn’t make sense. If the people that trashed your places are the ones that found the messages, why would they go from leaving Felicity death threats for even knowing about the list, to going public and telling the whole world about the list? I thought the point of the threat was to keep it secret?”

“Fair question.” Oliver looked at Felicity to see if she had any answers. She shook her head.

“I don’t know. Unless the intent before was to scare me into handing it over to them?”

“Ok, then. So what now?” Thea asked.

Worry crinkled Felicity’s forehead. “I’m not sure there’s much else we can do. There’s a bigger target on all of our backs now, more specifically on anyone named Queen, but security measures are already in place at the mansion. I’m sure Diggle is working up new rules for going out. On top of them, just perhaps don’t make any new friends for a while.”

“Does Roy count?” Thea asked batting her eyes.

“No.”

“Yes,” Oliver said at the same time. 

“Oliver, do you trust Roy or don’t you?” Felicity asked exasperated.

“I trust him.” He said grudgingly. His baby sister just didn’t need that kind of new friend.

Thea laughed and patted Oliver on the cheek. “Don’t feel bad Felicity overruled you. I wouldn’t have listened anyway.”

If he could have, Oliver would have avoided Roy for a while, but his former protégé ended up being their way past the reporters. The stakes had changed but the mission hadn’t. He had what looked like the code to the basement and no one wanted to wait to try it out. Only after Thea dialed Roy did any of them recall Verdant would be in full swing. Except it wasn’t. 

Tommy had a final burst of bad luck that delivered them a silver lining. Half his regular security, his new DJ, and his whole crew behind the bar—except Roy—had either called in sick or quit altogether. 

A coincidence? Not a chance, but with what was going on, Tommy hadn’t had time to find that many last minute replacements, if it was even possible. So Verdant stayed closed for the night. Which meant Roy was available for driver duty. Thea arranged for him to pick them up at the east gate. 

The only way to find out if Felicity’s theory was correct was to try it out. No one wanted to stay behind and both Thea and Felicity argued if they could slip out undetected, they were just as safe as if they stayed put at the mansion. Oliver wasn’t sure about that, but he was more uneasy with the idea of having them out of his sight.

It was dark as they traipsed silently through the woods to the unused side gate. Roy was waiting when they got there and the drive to Verdant was uneventful. They parked in the back like normal, Felicity’s car still in its spot by Tommy’s. The back door was secured for a change, but Thea had her key. Inside, they found Tommy pacing the empty dance floor on his cellphone, clearly talking with his lawyer. 

“Yeah, I already told you. Someone is trying to frame me. There were scratches on the trunk like someone tried to get it open.” Oliver noted he left out the part where they _had_ gotten it open and Tommy found a knife inside. Tommy listened for a moment and then scowled.

“So you’re saying if I do find planted evidence like a knife that I should _not_ be another one of the idiots that try to get rid of it by tossing it over the dam. Sure, makes total sense they’d have cameras on the bridge.” Tommy glared at Roy. “Good to know. No. I’ll sit tight. Got it. Uh huh. Ok. Yeah. No. I’m not going anywhere.” He disconnected the call. “So _I’m_ screwed.”

Roy held up his hands. “I swear there weren’t any cameras before I left town.”

“And how many years ago was that?” Tommy started to pace again, this time with his fingers dug into his hair, pulling tight. “This is going to look bad. Real bad. And did I mention heavy objects actually don’t tend to wash out to the bay? Nope, I guess they just sink to the bottom and wait for the Starling City Police Department to go looking. I’m so screwed.”

“Maybe not,” Felicity said. She pulled out her phone. “Tommy, when did you, um, go for a drive?”

Tommy rattled off a specific time. “I looked at the clock right before I drove across the dam.” 

Concentrating on her screen, her thumbs flew over the small keys. Triumph flashed on her face. Her smile was stunning. “There. From the imbedded meta data, I can tell you no one has looked at the footage, nor will anyone. It seems an electric surge sadly erased any video recorded during a ten minute interval earlier this afternoon. They police might find a knife if they search the spillway, but their cameras will never tell them who put it there.” 

Adoration and relief plastered Tommy’s face. “You can do that?” Impulsively, he grabbed her face and kissed her on the mouth. “For that, I’ll forgive you for falling under Oliver’s charms instead of mine.” 

Oliver scowled and tensed, reflexively balling his hands at his side.

“Sincerity matters. You should try it sometime,” she quipped back. Oliver felt his jaw relax. Felicity glanced at him and their eyes locked, just for a moment. He stopped contemplating beating Tommy up.

“OK, I get the message. So,” Tommy clasped his hands together with a clap and looked around at his visitors, “did you all just swing by to save my ass?”

“No, we want to look in the basement.”

“The basement? The flooded basement?”

“We have reason to believe you were misled about that,” Felicity said.

“Even if I was, I don’t have the code.”

“We do. Or at least we think we do.”

They had their answer a minute later. The first attempt Oliver tapped into the keypad produced a click and a green light. The open door framed a cavernous, unrelenting black. He heard an echoed drip of water. The flooded basement story seemed less farfetched.

“Do we need flashlights?” Thea asked

“I’ve seen the blueprints.” Tommy said. “There should be a light switch at the top of the stairs. Assuming it’s working still.”

Fumbling around the edge of the door, Oliver found the smooth switch plate and then tripped all the switches upward. For a moment nothing happened, then there was a flicker of light followed by another and then a steady hum before light flooded the deep, open space below. He went part way down the stairs to get a better look. There were a few damp spots and a grate on the floor where water dripped down even deeper, but no flooding. There were, however, a number of old industrial chains hanging from the ceiling, a handful of cinder blocks, an oversized tire, and two large, wooden crates.

“Bingo!”

“What the hell?”

They all filed down the tall metal staircase and then circled the boxes. They were taller than a refrigerator box and more square, but, Oliver estimated, about as wide as the side by side he’d ordered last year for the company break room.

“What’s in them?” Tommy asked. 

“Not a clue,” Felicity said examining the boxes from all sides. “I mean, we’re pretty sure they are the Markov Devices; we just don’t know what they look like or do. Haven’t yet found someone to tell me what Dr. Markov was working on. Even his doctorate thesis appears to have been scrubbed from online journals.”

“What about this Markov guy? Wouldn’t he know?”

“Still trying to track down him or any of the rest of the lead scientists on the project.”

“What if,” Thea suggested as she tapped the side of the crate, “we just opened them up and looked?” 

After Tommy sent Roy to grab a crowbar, they did just that and unboxed what appeared to be two complete or mostly complete machines and parts belonging to an unfinished third all wrapped in plastic. They loosened the plastic to get a better look.

“So, what the hell are they?” Thea asked, saying what everyone seemed to be thinking. The finished products were two-part. An almost desk like operating section connected to a taller cylindrical section that swung out. That part reminded Oliver of an oversized bug zapper with a lot of extraneous wires. He was certain it wasn’t a bug zapper so he kept his thoughts to himself. 

“Death ray?” Roy suggested. 

Tommy shook his head, “I’d say bug zapper.” The scornful look Felicity shot him made Oliver feel smug. 

“We should turn it on and see what happens.” Thea suggested.

Felicity shook her head. “Even though I’m sure it’s not a death ray or any kind of a laser, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t recognize much of the tech, but the power relays are amplified to handle an incredible amount of energy which tells me whatever these things do, they are incredibly powerful. For now, they stay off and if anyone asks, the basement remains flooded.”

“Got it. Deny their very existence.”

“What’s this symbol on the box mean?”

Roy held up a discarded side of the crate that had stamped on it the round symbol with the lines intersecting from multiple angles. 

“We haven’t figured that out yet. But the symbol is how I know these machines are connected to the Gambit going down.”

“I’ve seen it before.” 

“Where?”

“I don’t know.” Roy studied it harder, pulling his mouth into a frown. “But I know I’ve seen it.”

“That’s not very helpful Mr. Harper,” Tommy said. “Makes you two for two today.”

Not getting the answers they needed, they rewrapped the devices in plastic, turned off the lights and let the heavy metal door go back to protecting its secrets.

They wandered back to the main part of the club. Thea drummed her fingers on the bar.

“You know, there is probably one person besides the inventor that could tell us about the devices.”

“We discuss them with no one,” Oliver said, immediately. He could already guess his sister’s line of thinking.

“I’m talking about Mom.”

“No.”

“Ollie, you’re being unreasonable. If she’s the one that put them there, then she—“

“No.” 

“I’m with Oliver right now,” Felicity said. “Moira went to a lot of trouble to make whatever they are get lost. I doubt she’d even be willing to acknowledge knowing they are here let alone share what they do.”

“Why not? It’s not like we were the ones she was hiding them from, otherwise she wouldn’t have stashed them in the basement before she approved the sale.”

“The fact that she was hiding them from someone at all tells me she thought she had good reason she needed to hide them.”

Oliver heard a tone in Felicity’s voice. “What are you thinking?”

“Same as before, that none of this is a coincidence.”

“None of what?” Tommy asked.

“To start with, George Patel trying to gain control of Verdant and everything that led to it almost happening.”

Tommy straightened up from the wall where he’d been leaning. “Wait, wait, wait. You’re suggesting he tried to con me out of Verdant because he knew what was in the basement? How would he know anything was there? I didn’t know anything was there.”

“His dad was after Unidac and I think this project was why. We don’t know what kind of information he left behind and as for the basement, Moira wiped the records at QC, but she needed help getting the devices here. Whoever moved them would know something hush hush was here.”

“And they just happened to get that info to Patel?”

“Information is brokered just like any other commodity. It may seem like a leap, but the devices George Patel’s father killed for and ultimately died for are currently in your basement. Isn’t it a bigger leap to think there isn’t a connection? Think about it. All the weird incidents, accidents, break-ins and the recent high turnover in staff, all the things that supposedly lowered your supposed partners confidence in Verdant enough for them to demand cash now instead of relying on a future profit. And because of the losses and added expenses, you couldn’t meet the demand.”

“Triggering the LLC taking control of Verdant.”

“Patel probably used a combination of sabotage and bribes to get what he wanted.”

“That bastard,” Tommy said with heat in his voice. “If he wasn’t already dead, I’d kill him.”

“You might want to hold off on that kind of talk.” Roy jerked his head toward the front entrance of the club. “We’ve got trouble.”

As a group, they rushed toward the front and through the doors they saw flashing lights and several squads pull up.

“Aw crap.” Tommy pulled his phone from his pocket, selected a number and hit send. “I thought I’d have more time. Pick up, pick up.”

There was a banging at the door.

“This is the police. Open up.”

“Hey!” Tommy said into his phone. “Yeah, so the police are outside right now. What do I do?” There was a short pause and then a sigh. “I was afraid you’d say that. Uh-huh. What does… Ok. Right, see you there.” He returned his phone to his pocket. “Roy, you might as well let them in.”

Reluctantly, looking extremely uncomfortable in his role, Roy crouched and started the process of releasing the locks, starting with the ones at the bottom of the doors.

“Tommy, are you going to be ok?” Oliver asked. His friend looked pale and shaky. They’d had their run-ins with the law first as kids and then as idiot adults, but nothing close to as serious as being accused of murder. Not even all the accusations about the Gambit resulted in police banging on his door. 

“We’ll find out. My lawyer is going to meet me at police headquarters. He got word they got a couple warrants. One for my car and one for my phone records. So yeah, you can be sure they’ve already heard the messages I left on Patel’s phone. Probably not an arrest yet even if they are dragging me in for questioning.”

Felicity squeezed his arm. “It’s going to be alright. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yeah. I doubt they think that.”

The doors opened and the detectives Oliver and Felicity had met earlier surged in, flanked by several uniformed officers. 

“Thomas Merlyn.”

Tommy raised his hand as if his face wasn’t known by every citizen of Starling. 

“That’s me.”

“We’d like to ask you a few questions about your relationship with George Patel.”

“Go ahead.”

“We’d like to do it downtown at SCPD.”

“Why, not. Got nothing else to do tonight.” He looked pointedly around the empty club. “Personnel problems. You know how it is.”

“I’m sure I don’t.”

The detective was making a motion to one of the uniformed officers to escort Tommy out when another uniform rushed in and whispered something urgently in his ear. The detective looked surprised. “Are you sure?” He quickly asked the officer and at the affirmative, his piercing gaze narrowed in on a new target. 

Felicity.

Oliver didn’t like it at all. 

An unfriendly smile more suitable on a junkyard dog curled across the detective’s face.

“Felicity Smoak.”

“Yes?” She answered, wary and confused.

“We’d like you to accompany us downtown as well.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: 
> 
> Apologies in advance, but I won't have a new chapter posted next Wednesday as is my usual. Busy week as I'm sure most of you understand. I will be back on schedule as of next Saturday. 
> 
> As always, thanks to each and everyone of my readers. There's no point to any of this without you. :D


	27. Chapter 27

Despite their willingness to drive down to the Starling City Police Department headquarters, the detectives insisted that Tommy and Felicity ride with them into the station in the backs of squad cars. They even insisted on separate squads. Oliver had Roy and Thea drive him directly to the station and then sent them back to the mansion. 

From the moment Felicity’s confused eyes darted to meet his after the officer’s “request,” Oliver had been trying to get ahold of his mother, but she wasn’t answering. Hopefully, Thea could track her down. Whatever conflicted relationship existed between him and his mother, Moira would help Felicity. He may not trust her about other things, but he trusted her protective feelings toward Felicity and he wasn’t going to let Felicity stay at SCPD and be treated as a criminal one second longer than necessary.

The police must have found something. Something even they weren’t expecting. Something that made them unwilling to let Felicity out of their sights for even a minute. Detective Elroy and Jones in Homicide were the ones planning on handling her interview so it wasn’t related to their Applied Science excursion last night. It had to be about George Patel’s murder. Being in the dark about how or why lodged a ball of fear in his gut. He wanted her out of there, but when he arrived at the station, they wouldn’t give him even the most basic of information about her or Tommy. 

He called Thea for an update. She didn’t waste time giving him the news.

“Mom can’t help. She took a sleeping pill and went to straight to bed. I tried waking her, but she’s groggy as hell and makes no sense.”

“Ok, I’ll make some calls.”

“Roy and I are about to head over to you.”

“No. Stay there,” he ordered. “So far the press doesn’t know. They’d follow you right to the station.”

He disconnected and dialed Diggle. Day off or not, he answered on the first ring.

“What’s wrong? A bit late to meet for a work out.” 

“The police brought Felicity in for questioning about Patel’s murder. Tommy too,” he said as an afterthought. 

“Questioning, but no arrests?”

“Not yet, but I have a bad feeling about where this is going.”

“You’re mom—”

Oliver interrupted.

“Took a sleeping pill and is of no help. I’ve been away too long. I don’t even know the name of the firm Queen Consolidated keeps on retainer.”

“I can get that to you, but you have more friends than you know and one of them is about to have the best defense attorney in the city as his mother-in-law.”

“Ray Palmer. Got it.” He thanked Diggle and pulled up the directory on his phone. He hadn’t kept Palmer’s personal cell number after they’d concluded the land sale, hadn’t even kept that phone, but Felicity had taken his new phone and, along with security protocols, downloaded a slew of contacts, Palmer’s included. He’d only kept it because he’d refused to waste the time it would have taken to delete it.

Ray’s too chipper voice answered.

“Oliver Queen! I was just thinking about you guys. It’s been nothing but bad luck what with the attack at the gala and then you and Felicity’s place getting trashed and then a body! I mean, seriously? And then your dad’s videos? Wow, what a weekend! How are you doing? Did you want to talk? How about I—”

“Felicity’s in trouble,” Oliver interrupted, not sure the man would ever stop otherwise. “The police dragged her in for questioning about Patel’s murder.” 

That was all it took for Palmer to understand. The speaker muffled and he heard Ray call out,_ Anna! Get your mother on the phone_! Maybe he was the genius they claimed after all. Ray came back on the line, asked a few succinct questions and then promised they’d be there in a half hour. 

Tommy’s lawyer arrived and disappeared in the back while Oliver paced the recently renovated lobby. Marble floors, tasteful plants and updated lighting didn’t match the hard glint in the eyes of the cops that came and went or the terror that flared up as anything from grief to anger on the faces of those that waited along with him for their own answers or judgement. 

He’d liked the station better last time he’d been there. Ten years ago, hauled in for drunken disorderly. The industrial grey tile and harsh fluorescent lights had at least felt honest among the raw humanity. 

Just after midnight, Ray Palmer and a determined looking woman in her mid-fifties with a no-nonsense haircut, wearing a maroon pants-suit pushed through the lobby doors. Palmer’s eyes alighted on Oliver right away while the woman ignored him and went right to the desk Sergeant. She flashed her credentials. “I demand to speak with Felicity Smoak, my client, immediately.” She was escorted back a moment later.

“Don’t worry. Jean is the best,” Ray offered and then mercifully, sat and didn’t try to make small talk. Well, didn’t try to make small talk with him. The last time Oliver paced within earshot he heard Ray exclaiming, “I’d love to meet your grandson!” Funny thing is, Oliver actually believed him. Still, he avoided getting too close after that for fear he’d get included in the appointment. 

After what seemed like several hours, Tommy and Felicity finally emerged in tow with their respective lawyers. Felicity looked like a wilted flower. He rushed to her side.

“Save the reunion for later,” Jean briskly ordered before he could do more than touch Felicity on her shoulder. “Leave now. Talk later.”

He ushered Felicity out. Ray quickly said goodbye to his new found friends, popped up and followed them. Jean Loring kept the march up as they exited SCPD until they reached her car in the parking lot. There, Tommy and his lawyer nodded and kept going. 

Jean saw the question in Oliver’s eyes and shook her head. “Merlyn is going home to Verdant. You can compare notes tomorrow.” She eyed him up and down, eyes narrowing. “Just how firm are you on providing Felicity with an alibi?”

“One hundred percent,” he answered without hesitation.

“Good. You’re going to need that resolve because their next move will be trying to invalidate your claim.”

“We were together the whole time.”

“No, not the whole time, which is why you weren’t in there being interrogated with her. You went in alone to register at the Inn. You were also recognized a few minutes later by another guest when you were entering the building from a back entrance.”

“Felicity walked in with me.”

“Well, she must have already been inside because the eyewitness only places you there.”

“They had security cameras.”

“Which would have been very helpful had the Inn not experienced a one hour video blackout during the time you claim you entered their establishment.” 

Next to him, Felicity stiffened.

“We did enter—” He started to insist only for Jean Loring to hold up her hand.

“I’m only telling you what the detectives are going to tell you. And soon. Right now, they are playing catch up on this new theory of theirs, still trying to come up with motive or a clear connection but they have something they are not sharing that puts Ms. Smoak at the center of it. And while I’m betting it’s circumstantial, it’s never a good sign when the detectives are happy. Here.” She handed him a set of keys. “Take my car. Take her home.” She glanced at Felicity to include her. “We’ll talk again in the morning.”

He clenched his fist around the keys and nodded. Jean and Ray waited until they were buckled in and the car started before for they headed to Palmer’s sleek SUV. Oliver navigated the sedan out of the parking lot and out onto the deserted streets of downtown Starling. There was no traffic at that time of night. 

“I messed up.” Felicity confessed after they left the city and got on the freeway. “Last night, I thought we’d be safer if the Starling Shore Inn didn’t have us on camera.”

“You took care of the video while I was picking up the key?”

“I thought the fewer the people that knew we were there, the fewer that could sell out our location. I never thought I’d need to prove we were there.”

“You couldn’t have known.”

She shook her head and turned to face the window. He didn’t press her to talk.

With no traffic, the drive to the mansion was quick, but when they approached the gate, they were swarmed by the press still stationed there. This marked the second time they’d returned to the mansion despite the reporters and camera crews never seeing them exit. It was a safe bet they would start looking for another exit and when they found the side gate, start stationing people there as well.

Looking straight ahead, they ignored the bright lights and the shouted questions as best they could until one of the guards recognized them and waved them through. He drove the rest of the way up the drive, handed off the keys and they headed inside.

“Oh thank god, you’re back!” Thea exclaimed as she and a more silent Roy emerged. Something of Felicity’s mental and physical exhaustion must have registered because instead of throwing herself into a hug, Thea only gently touched Felicity’s arm. “Are you ok?”

Felicity nodded but even that effort seemed to wear her out. Oliver put his arm around her waist and drew her against his side. 

“Tommy was released as well,” Oliver quickly told Thea. “We can talk more in the morning.” 

His sister’s big hazel eyes darted over Felicity’s face and nodded.

“Ok. Yes, we’ll talk in the morning. Good night.”

Roy echoed Thea’s good night before they faded back to wherever they’d come from. Oliver’s tired brain settled on assuming they’d been up watching a movie while they waited. They’d both been dressed—mostly—so at least he could pretend. 

He followed Felicity up the stairs, staying close, a little worried she might stumble in her heels. At her bedroom door, she hesitated and for the first time it occurred to him she might not have planned on him spending the night. Uncertainty had him awkwardly rooted to the floor. 

***

Felicity paused in the hallway, staring at the carpet. She wasn’t sure what to do or say next. She was swaying on her feet, emotionally on edge, and feeling grimy from the insinuations the detectives hurled at her while in the interrogation room. All she wanted was to shower and to go to sleep. 

And to have Oliver’s arms wrapped around her.

But sex was the last thing she had on her mind and he’d already been stuck waiting on her for hours. She was safe in the mansion. Oliver’s protective nature could finally take a break. Maybe it would even be smart to send him back to his room. This needy feeling wasn’t like her. She shouldn’t become reliant on him always being around. Funny how she’d never worried about that happening with anyone before. She tried clearing her throat, but her voice still sounded raspy when she spoke.

“Oliver, I’m too tired to want anything but a shower and sleep, I think—”

“Do you want me to go?” He cut to the chase.

She blinked up at him. _Want_ him to go?

“No, but—”

This time he interrupted her with a short kiss, his hands cradling her face and his gaze shatteringly deep. “Then there are no buts.”

“What about what you want?” she still asked.

His answer was to take her hand and lead her inside her bedroom, softly closing the door behind them. A bedside light had been left on creating an intimate feeling in the hushed space. He shed his suit jacket and tie, probably loosened hours ago, and dropped them over the arm of a chair before heading to the bathroom. She heard the sound of the shower coming on a moment later. 

Enlivened, she stepped out of her heels and reached behind her back, twisting to pull the zipper down. She let the dress pool to the floor. She pulled her hair free from the band gathering it back into a ponytail, unhooked her bra and wiggled out of her underwear. Entering the bathroom, she went past Oliver who was sitting on the edge of the empty jetted tub pulling off his shoes and walked directly into the already fogged up shower. She left the glass door open as an invitation. 

She closed her eyes, letting the jets of steaming water cascade over her, washing the odor and grime of the precinct away. How could the antiseptic they’d last used to clean the interrogation room linger strong enough to sting her eyes, but somehow not quite cover up the sour stench of vomit? Though if she was being honest, far worse than the smell was the dirty way the detectives’ questions made her feel. 

They dredged up the past, denigrating where she came from, what her mom did for a living, and poor Cooper, the first boy she thought she’d loved who took his life back in college. And then they moved to the present, saying she ingratiated herself to the Queens for their money and connections, making them rely on her. And now she’d stepped up her campaign by sleeping with the missing heir.

Growing up, Felicity kept skipping grades and her mom was a cocktail waitress with a bent for the outrageous; she’d developed thick skin. Words were just words and with effort, she could silence them, but when she closed her eyes, she was haunted by the knowing looks in the detectives’ eyes, like they were the only ones that saw the truth of what a rotting carcass of a human being she really was. And maybe they did see something horrible. After all, wasn’t it her need to prove she was the best in her field that got her old boss killed? She shuddered. 

The shower door clicked shut and a second later, Oliver’s arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back against his chest, engulfing her in hug as he rested his chin on the crown of her head. She clasped her hands around his and breathed, drawing from his strength and from knowing he’d chosen to be there with her, for her. When he looked at her, he didn’t see something horrible and she’d felt more seen by Oliver than anyone she’d ever met. The detectives were wrong. They didn’t know anything about her.

Oliver stood with her, silently holding her for a few minutes until she felt cleansed and then she started to wash. 

By the time they finished and dried off, she exhausted, leaning into Oliver’s side and having a hard time keeping her eyes open. She hadn’t protested when he scooped her off her feet and carried her the rest of the way to bed. 

He set her down to sit on the edge while he vanished for a moment only to return with a t-shirt, directing her to put her arms up while he helped her put it on and then shifted her around on the bed until she was beneath the covers. She drifted on the edge of sleep, wanting to fall under but resisting, needing something more but too tired to let a thought fully form in her brain. Then the mattress shifted beside her, Oliver’s arms again banded around her waist, spooning her from the back. She slid seamlessly into slumber with his warmth surrounding her. 

***

Felicity’s limbs still felt heavy when the sound of urgent knocking intruded on her rest. Light was creeping in from behind the curtains, telling her that several hours had gone by rather than the few minutes it felt like since she’d fallen asleep. The noise was muted somewhat, not coming directly on her door, but nearby. And relentless.

Oliver rolled out of bed, disappearing into the bathroom. A minute later, he came back with his pants on and buttoning his shirt. The hard knocking across the hall was now accompanied by a voice calling Oliver’s name. When Moira switched from calling Oliver’s name to calling his _full _name, Felicity got up too, grabbing a robe from the wardrobe.

“Oliver Jonas Queen, you will come out and explain this to me immediately, or so help me, I am coming in.”

Shocked, Felicity synched the belt on her robe and slid her feet into a pair of slippers. She couldn’t remember a time when Moira had even come close to making a scene and now she was practically shouting, and really, it was only extreme politeness that kept her raps on the door from being classified as pounding. 

Oliver, barefoot and his hair still tousled from sleep, glanced at her once, briefly reaching out and brushing her hand with his before going to her bedroom door and yanking it open.

“What mother?” He didn’t shout, but his frustration was clear.

Moira calmly turned around as if she’d known he was in that room rather than across the hall the whole time. She was dressed for the office, crisply put together in a no-nonsense, navy suit. She strode the few feet separating them and slapped a tightly rolled newspaper into his hand.

“Do you mind explaining this?” While Oliver worked to unroll the paper, she continued on. “Once again, I go to sleep only to wake up to disaster.”

Felicity edged closer to Oliver in the doorway and peered at the paper. It wasn’t Starling City’s daily but the secondary rag that, while still widely read, was more given to salacious and misleading headlines. Around the edge of the page was speculation about the hidden messages in Robert Queen’s final words to his children, but taking up center stage was a large grainy picture of her, Oliver and Jean Loring coming out of the Starling City Police Department and another smaller one from when she and Oliver were at the Queen Mansion’s front gates. Above the images was the headline, “Queen’s Consort Questioned for Murder.”

“Oh, frack.”

Oliver sighed. “I thought we’d avoided press at the station.”

“So this is true? Felicity was taking in and questioned for murder?”

“Tommy as well. I’m surprised he’s not in the picture. Neither were charged.” He let the paper roll up again, hiding the headline. “Frankly, Mother, I’d think you’d be happy it wasn’t me this time.”

She gave him a sharp look. “You think any of this makes me happy? Do you have any idea how this looks? What yet another scandal could do to the shares of Queen Consolidated and just before the merger with Merlyn Global goes through?”

Felicity cleared her throat. “I’m sorry Moira. I wasn’t expecting any of this. I can leave right away.”

“We both can.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. No one is leaving, but you must come to me about these kinds of things so I can mitigate the fallout.”

“You weren’t exactly available last night.”

Moira flattened her mouth. “Be that as it may, maybe we can use this distraction to tamp down any further lurid interest in your father’s messages.”

“No.” Oliver was adamant. “Do the opposite. Use Dad’s videos to bury interest in these unfounded accusations.”

“I don’t think you understand what you are saying. The implications of these videos could stir up all the wrong sorts of questions. Questions that could not only destroy your father’s reputation, but serve up far worse repercussions.”

“Then tell me what the threat is. What bad thing did Dad have on his conscious? Who are you afraid of finding out about the list? Why did Dad die?”

Moira pursed her lips together and refused to say a word.

“Not ready to talk, then go, do what you said you were going to do. Control the narrative. And if we can’t, so be it. Felicity is innocent. You will not cause Felicity further harm just to shield a dead man from his past or I will make certain the next headline is about your past and your connection in covering up what really happened to the Gambit. Are we clear?”

Moira drew back, blinking, unnerved by his threat, if just for a moment. Her hand fluttered to her throat. “I would never put Felicity in deliberate harm.”

“Just so we are clear.” He handed the paper back to Moira in a clear dismissal, but she had already recovered her equilibrium and entered the spin zone. 

She accepted the paper, nodded succinctly and said, “Now if you will excuse, me, I have a long day ahead of me,” as if she was the one who had ended their impromptu meeting. She turned and briskly walked away. 

Oliver waited until Moira left their sight before scrubbing his hands over his face in frustration. “I need…I need….”

“Go. We’ll catch up later.”

Oliver leaned in for a quick brush of lips and then headed across the hall, presumably to change into workout clothes. Felicity retreated back into her bedroom. A glance at the clock said it was just after seven. Late for her normal weekday routine to begin but given the hour they’d gotten in, she looked at the bed and considered going back under the covers. The coffee she knew would be waiting downstairs won out. 

A couple hours later, Oliver found her back in the conservatory still waiting for the computer search on Dr. Markov to yield its final information. She’d traded her robe for a simple floral top with dark jeans. Designer jeans. Jeans more expensive than her monthly electric, water, gas, and phone bill combined. She was tempted to stand and drop something to get her money’s worth out of them as Oliver came closer. Oh, she’d seen in the mirror what they did for her ass. When she signed the first insurance check over to Moira to put a dent in the cost of her new wardrobe, she would barely even whimper. 

Instead of posing, she picked up her coffee—the kitchen staff had kindly provided a travel mug of the premium stuff—took a long sip and tweaked a line of code to help hurry the process along. After his workout, Oliver must have showered before changing into the male version of the jeans she was wearing. She nudged her napkin off the table in front of her. A moment later, Oliver bent low to pick it up. A flush of heat stole through her. Oh what denim could do!

He set the cloth napkin back next to the laptop before brushing a kiss across her lips.

“Morning.”

“Hmm,” she hummed in appreciation. “Good morning,” she said and contemplated if she should knock over the plate and get a rewind of that. Instead she pressed her fingers to the remaining flakey crumbs, all that was left of the French Bakery quality croissant she’d had for breakfast. She brought each finger to her mouth and sucked the tip clean. Oliver watched, riveted. The jeans were working their magic and she hadn’t even needed to stand up. 

Nodding to her screen she said, “So, I think in just a short time I should have what I need on Markov and a couple of the other lead scientists. Just a few more tweaks to help it along.”

“Don’t worry; I don’t plan on looking over your shoulder while we wait. I come with purpose.” He held up a blue and yellow can of WD-40 and shook it up.

“Sorry, the Tin Man just left. What are you planning to do with that?”

He went to head of the lounger she was perched sideways on, aimed and sprayed the oil at a couple points out of sight. A moment later, he easily lowered the reclining section flat without the struggle he’d had few nights ago. Satisfied, he moved on to the next. She tapped her keyboard, occasionally adding a line of code here and there while she watched him methodically repeat the process on all six of the loungers and then move on to the hinges of the cabinets that held the towels, robes, pool accessories and supplies. 

“Looks like someone else is feeling the need to earn their keep.”

“I’m just restless. Mom wouldn’t thank me for doing the job rather than telling Marcus it needs to be done.” He shook his head, “And she wouldn’t want you to feel unwelcome or like you have to work for your supper. You’re here because of Queen family skeletons falling out of the closet. She owes you.” 

“Two hours ago we were arguing with your mom in her hallway. Meanwhile, she’s literally clothing, feeding, and sheltering both of us. It doesn’t feel right.”

“You think I’m being too hard on her.” 

“I don’t know.” She pivoted in the other direction, away from the computer she was still borrowing from Marcus, and swung her legs up on the lounge, tucking them to the side so she could face Oliver. “I mean, everything you said this morning was true. Moira is, at the very least, still covering something up. She owes you and Thea the truth about what happened to your father, but meanwhile, she doesn’t think twice about trying to protect me right along with the rest of her family.”

“She was planning on dangling you out to the press.”

“Or was she going to take advantage of the damage already done?”

“One headline is nothing,” he said looking grim. His eyes went somewhere distant, remembering. “One headline might go away, but that wouldn’t happen if she let them focus on you. You have no idea how bad it really can get.”

“No, you’re right. Thank you for wanting to look out for me.”

He grimaced. “I don’t…I don’t want your thanks.” 

Her search alarm went off before she could press him on what that meant. She flipped back around to face the computer. “Aha! I’ve got you.” Oliver waited patiently while she scanned the data coming on screen. 

“First off,” she announced, “Dr. Brion Markov is alive.”

“Is that a surprise?”

“Well, the way he abruptly fell off the map after the project was terminated made me wonder if he’d been as well, but apparently he’s in Madagascar, of all places, teaching seismology at their main university.”

“Earthquakes, right?”

“Right. I also finally have a bit of history on him. It was sneaky how they had his information hidden. There was a blind directive to—and you don’t need to know how it was hidden.” She paused and took a sip of her coffee before starting again. 

“Ok. Markov. Born in Quebec. First language was French, so that explains Madagascar at little. Started his undergraduate work at the University of Montreal before transferring to Stanford a year later. Eventually getting his PhD in Geophysics. His thesis work was on seismic waves, solid, but I don’t think groundbreaking work. Later picked up a Masters in Engineering. Worked for a number of institutes renowned for their study of earthquakes. Huh.”

“What?” Oliver walked around and sat next to her so he could see the computer screen.

“Give me a minute.” She quickly scanned what she found. Excitement started to build. “It’s a link,” she explained to Oliver, “to an article he contributed about ten years ago to one of the more obscure scientific journals. In it, he’s promoting more careful study of the effects of earthquakes on natural and man-made structures. Not unusual, right?”

“Right.”

“But listen to how he wanted to produce the studies. He posited he could replicate the effects of seismic waves. Or more specifically, manufacture the waves thus producing the same results as naturally occurring earthquakes.”

“An earthquake machine.” 

“It was all completely hypothetical at the time.” Felicity pulled up another search result, the one containing the other lead scientists working with Markov in Starling City. “In other news, the rest of the team he worked with at Unidac all specialized in subjects similar to Markov. And coincidentally, it looks like they too all decided to take jobs far from Starling City”

“Someone wanted them gone. Maybe they are lucky to be alive. “

“If the Markov Device does cause earthquakes, even in the strictest of settings there could be unintentional consequences. And if they set them off too close to a population, whole cities could easily be destroyed.” Felicity straightened her glasses and frowned at the screen. “Which, I suppose is a good enough reason to kill the project.”

“You’re not buying it?”

“It’s just that, until the project was canceled, all the signs point to it being on the fast track. That doesn’t happen unless you have the full support at the highest levels of the company. I mean like the boss’s boss’s boss.”

“Which they probably had right until they lost it. Did the records you pulled say who ended the project?”

“No, but I found out who was underwriting the expense.”

“I thought Queen Consolidated owned Unidac.”

“Yes, but here…” She turned the laptop a bit more toward Oliver and then switched over to a different tab, pulling up the Queen Consolidated file from yesterday. “These are the itemized materials expensed for the project. Like I said, they had everything available, but see this first set of numbers?”

“Yes.”

“It’s the same all the way down. Accounting uses the code to track expenses at QC for each project. Notice something?”

“A second code for each item. Parallel project?”

“No, same project, but with two codes to track expenses split down the middle.”

“Two departments covered the costs?”

“Close. The second code doesn’t fit QC’s tracking methodology at all. Not Unidac’s either. Neither used a mix of numbers and letters.”

“So…another company.”

“Yes and I realized I’ve seen something really similar to the second code before. A lot.”

“Where?”

“When I was working on the Merlyn Global merger for your mom. The accounting codes follow a pattern. There’s no doubt, Merlyn Global and Queen Consolidated both were partners on the Markov Device, though I have a feeling it was more Malcolm’s passion project than your mom’s.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because according to the dates, the project was shut down the day after Malcolm Merlyn was murdered. That can’t be a coincidence.” She turned to face him. “We need to break into Merlyn Global.” 

Oliver narrowed his eyes and frowned but he didn’t call her crazy so she took it as a positive sign even when he shook his head, stood and walked to the edge of the pool. He stared at the water. He shook his head again. 

“I know you want access to their server, but wasn’t the plan to wait a few more weeks for the merger to go through and then use your Queen Consolidated access?” He wasn’t being dismissive. He was trying to understand.

“I don’t want to wait that long. At least not for Malcolm’s personal files.” 

He turned back to face her, crossing his arms in front of him. “What about the police? What about George Patel’s murder? Shouldn’t we concentrate on that right now? Nothing in my past is as important as you.”

She looked down, her cheeks hot, and struggled to keep from reading into what he said. Oliver had owned his own business which meant he understood the need to prioritize, putting out current fires first. He couldn’t possibly be saying she was more important to him than exposing his father’s murderer.

“Getting access to Merlyn Global’s servers would be helping both of us.” At his skeptical look, she rushed forward. “Hear me out. Everything that’s going on, it has to all be connected. We already agreed to that. The information fed to Carina and to Channel 52, all of Tommy’s troubles at Verdant, George Patel trying to take over the property, Unidac, Markov’s secret doomsday machines. All connected. Patel was murdered in my home. After our places were trashed. After someone left threats about having your dad’s book. After someone had my place bugged. Whoever killed Patel has to be connected to it all, how can I think otherwise?”

“Or it was just a falling out between con-men.”

“You’re right. I don’t know why he was killed specifically but what other reason would he be at my place if not some connection to it being trashed?”

“There could be a reason we don’t know yet.”

“There could be. And I still don’t have a clue why the police think I’m a suspect in Patel’s murder. That’s a mystery I don’t know how to solve, and it’s…terrifying. I don’t want—I can’t just wait around doing nothing. If I’m right, all of this started long before Patel was murdered. Maybe the servers’ have been scrubbed as much as QC’s files, but maybe not. The situation at Merlyn Global is different.”

“How?”

“Malcolm’s been dead for three years,” Felicity explained, “but that might be to our advantage. What if the files we need are still just sitting there? Left intact because there was no one to give the order to hide them or maybe no one that knew about them or even more likely, left behind because no one but Malcolm could access them.” Oliver still hesitated. She tried a different track. “Think about it this way, at the very least, finding the files scrubbed would tell me someone else at MG was in on trying to make the Markov Device. And that gives me someone else with motive to get George out of their way.”

“Maybe wanting the device wasn’t the motive for George’s murder,” Oliver suggested. “Maybe stopping anyone from finding the device was why Patel was killed. And we know at least one person that fits that bill.”

“Your mom didn’t kill Patel.”

“Of course not. She’d have hired someone to do it.”

She glared at him but then decided to play Devil’s advocate. 

“Ok, let’s say she did take out a hit. Your mom hires the best. If Moira Queen was behind it, Patel would be missing or would have appeared to die in an accident, not found murdered right next door to where you lived. You heard Jean, if there weren’t witnesses that could verify your alibi, the police would be hounding you. There’s no way Moira could have known you’d be alibied. His death is too sloppy for her to have been behind it.” 

When Oliver frowned but didn’t disagree, she jumped ahead. “I want to get to the servers as soon as possible. There could be a ton of data to sort through. Look, I can go on my own, you can stay home. This is my plan; you don’t need to take any more risks.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about.” He let out a long sigh. “Is getting into Merlyn Global’s servers even feasible?”

“Don't worry, I have a plan.”


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Sorry for the delay but I had two reasons, a crazy week (I finished NaNoWriMo Friday!) and this is a long chapter that really couldn't be broken up if I wanted it read the way it was written. So here it is now and I hope you enjoy Oliver and Felicity's latest caper. Thanks as always for reading and any and all comments.***

**Chapter 28**

Game day had finally arrived.

Oliver walked with Tommy and Felicity across the open floor of Merlyn Global’s three story lobby. It was similar to the street level entrance of the Queen Consolidated building with a wall of glass doors and windows, but the dark wood accents and large metal sculptures made the atmosphere feel heavier. Or maybe that came from the looks sent their way as they headed toward the elevator bank. He kept his hand at the small of Felicity’s back and rather than ignore the stares, met each one directly with a blazing smile. He received three kinds of reactions: people would smile back, duck their eyes, or convert their stares into scowls. 

He didn’t mind it for himself. He could handle it, but it was all he could do to hold his smile and maintain the carefully crafted air of indifference when many of those hard stares looked past him and fixated on Felicity.

He wouldn’t have minded if they stared because she looked beautiful, and she did, wearing another one of her new, brightly colored “work dresses”. This one bared her toned arms and shoulders while tastefully highlighting her curves and legs. 

Felicity would claim most of the stares were for the matching salmon-toned, ostrich tote Thea sent for her use. She was mistaken if she thought under normal circumstances even a $50,000 Birkin bag could pull attention from her. And again, under normal circumstances, he’d accept the scrutiny she received as due a brilliant, beautiful woman. Nothing was normal right now. 

From the side, he studied her. Felicity kept a pleasant expression fixed on her face, but he knew her smiles. This one didn’t reach her eyes and the stiff line of her back spoke to her rising tension. Nevertheless, she was coping better than he’d expect of someone who hadn’t grown up in the fickle eye of the public. 

Felicity Smoak was a determined woman. Getting to this day had taken longer than she’d hoped with one thing after the other piling up. They now knew why the police dragged her in for questioning. 

Blood.

Presumably George Patel’s blood spotted inside her car. That’s where things got complicated. The same night she’d been taken in for questioning, her cherry red, Mini Cooper had been towed into the Starling City impound lot. Felicity hadn’t been notified until the next day. 

At first it wasn’t clear if the tow was a part of the Patel mess or merely wrongfully removed; Tommy had a contract with a local guy to tow cars left for too long in his lot, though no call had been made specifically about hers, a fact Jean Loring pounced on once the SCPD came forward with a search warrant. She was already challenging the legality of what they subsequently found. She’d earned her fee so far and kept Felicity free and uncharged, not a small thing in light of the surveillance video the police produced to challenge her alibi. 

Oliver couldn’t blame Tommy, even with Felicity in the mix, the police were continuing their separate investigation into him. To shore up his shaky alibi, he’d turned over all the outdoor surveillance footage—inside the club he didn’t have cameras preferring a “what happens in Verdant stays in Verdant” mantra. How could he have known how damning the video looked for Felicity? 

Unidentifiable, Jean declared of the person on the feed. It was true, the person’s face couldn’t be seen, mostly because the cameras immediately out back of the club had all been smashed. Vandalism was a constant problem in the Glades, but this was no coincidence. Only one camera survived to show the rear exit. One placed far out in the parking lot, but high up, angled to get a large overview of Verdant’s rear in a single glance. 

The black and white video showed when he and Felicity exited the club and spoke to Diggle. Then, it showed her in her shiny dress stopping at her car to retrieve her gym bag. After that, Oliver had helped Felicity get into his truck and they drove away. But time stamped a half hour later, someone with Felicity’s build emerged from the shadows of the alley behind Verdant. Dressed in leggings and a baggy, hooded sweatshirt, glimpses of light hair could be seen caught up in the hood, hiding the length and cut. 

At the club that night, hundreds of woman, and probably some men, from that a distance in bulky clothing might resemble Felicity, but then came the damning part. How many of them had the keys to her car? 

That’s what the video showed. The figure went to the Mini Cooper, used a key, and drove off. Fast forward an hour after Verdant was closed, the car returned to its spot next to Tommy’s Honda and the person, dressed as before, got out holding a small, wrapped bundle. They lingered for a minute doing something half in, half out of the shadows behind Tommy’s car before being wholly swallowed back up as they slipped down the alley the way they’d come.

The police used the video to supposedly prove the inconsistency of Felicity’s earlier statement and a judge signed off on a warrant to search Felicity’s car. Notification of the warrant came about the same time Felicity realized she was missing a set of her keys. The police were happy to tell her they’d found them locked in the car next to some obvious smears of blood on the passenger seat.

Felicity was brought back in for questioning, this time for a lot longer, something Jean originally allowed in the hopes of clearing up this mess. That had been before they saw the video. Oliver went as well, swearing again Felicity hadn’t been out of his sight more than the time it took to walk into the hotel lobby to get the keycard, but the police didn’t believe him. “Who else could it be?” They’d asked again and again. That was one of the questions they were at Merlyn Global to find out. 

Even though the police hadn’t charged Felicity—yet—once the press got wind she’d had a second interview, there’d been nothing Moira could do to squash interest in the story. 

If the blood in her car matched George Patel’s, which they expected it would since the actual knife had been planted in Tommy’s trunk, Jean expected Felicity to be formally charged with murder even if Loring was determined to get the evidence thrown out eventually. The other information they were waiting on from the lab, checking for a match between what had been deposited in Felicity’s closet and Patel’s DNA, was only going to give the police more fuel for their theory. Unless they found an alternative suspect, Felicity was going to be arrested soon. 

To pile on to the misery, someone at the police department leaked details of the ongoing investigation to Channel 52. Without a clear motive for Felicity to kill Patel, speculation ran wild. Which was why Oliver’s falsely bright smile dissolved into a scowl as they passed the newsstand. 

What kind of throwback place was Merlyn Global? Who even had a newsstand anymore? 

The _Starling City Star_ stuck to the facts and stated, “Police Await Blood Results.” A similar caption was on the other local paper of integrity, but then there was the _Daily Examiner. _The_ Examiner _didn’t sell copies based on integrity. Or facts. 

The full page headline included one of Oliver’s pictures from his serial killer, yacht salesmen days next to a photo of George Patel from some black tie function, and placed slightly below, a candid shot of Felicity from the other night at Verdant. It was easy to see why someone had taken the time to capture her image that night. 

Felicity was a sex goddess in the killer gold mini she’d worn. A sweaty, glittery, siren with her hips out and arms seemingly beckoning any man to his grateful doom. The headline read “Gold Blooded Murder: Tech Tramp Kills Lover to Win Royal Prize?”

“Jesus.” Tommy muttered ahead of them. He looked ready to stop and buy out the stand or maybe have security throw them out, but Felicity quickly shook her head.

“Don’t,” she said and sailed past the sordid suggestion looking like royalty herself. 

Tommy hesitated. Furious, Oliver fought his urge to do something as well, but Felicity was right, now wasn’t the time. Still, before he followed her, he pulled his phone from his pocket, took, and sent the picture to his mother with two words. “_Bury this_!” 

That was the other development from the recent madness; he now regularly communicated with his mother. It was more temporary truce than any kind of real cease fire, but his mom wanted to help and he was not above using any resource to fight this gathering tide. Which brought them to where they were today, getting ready to break into Merlyn Global’s secure server room. 

He and Tommy caught up to Felicity at the elevator. She glanced at them and again shook her head. “It’s fine. I’m fine,” she insisted. 

Bullshit. 

Felicity’s eyes were haunted, but he understood not wanting to show weakness. So he didn’t argue, instead, he reached for her hand, laced their fingers together and brought it to his lips, making a public show of his support. A tiny smile, just for him, appeared. “I’m fine,” she repeated and this time he believed her. He kept hold of her hand anyway. 

The cab was empty when the elevator doors opened and all it took was a few pointed glares to insure they kept it to themselves on the way up to the 14th floor. The servers Felicity needed to access were on the 16th but the only way to get to the 16th floor by elevator required using a key card they did not have in full display of heavily watched, live cameras. The door to the 16th floor in the stairwell also used a key card to gain access, but the stairs weren’t watched as closely. When it came time, she’d be able to slip the cameras into a loop without security noticing any blips. 

“So Tommy,” Felicity said, “just a reminder, I need your meeting to last at least 20 minutes, a half hour would be better. If you come back too soon, then someone’s going to start wondering where we are.”

“I remember, but, um, should we be talking about this?” He jerked his head toward the camera in the corner.”

“There’s no audio.”

He visibly relaxed. “Don’t worry about me running short. Ms. Dickerson has been hounding me for this meeting for months. Apparently I was tarnishing corporate image long before the police suspected me of murdering my business partner.” 

“It’s getting us inside; that’s what matters.”

That was step one of Felicity’s plan. Malcolm Merlyn’s assassination happened within the walls of Merlyn Global. In the three years since, like the barn doors of yore shut after the horses were out, security was now extremely tight. Metal detectors, bags searches, picture id and color coded badges handed out to everyone. You couldn’t even get to the elevator banks that took you past the mezzanine level if you didn’t have employee identification, a verified appointment or an approved contact that would put you on the list. 

In Tommy, Felicity arranged for two of the three options for entry. He was vouching for them as his guests while he had an appointment. Conditions of his father’s will kept his majority ownership in limbo, but until he officially failed to meet the conditions, he was granted a few perks. 

Tommy scratched at his ear and then shrugged. “To tell the truth, I was a little surprised my name had any juice. Heck, since the shooting, even I wouldn’t have made it to the elevators without the appointment.” He cocked his head to the side, “Come to think of it, I might have been banned without appointment before he died. Even when I tried working here, they restricted my access.”

“I wonder why?” Oliver asked, insincerely. As young men, both of them had used their connection to the name on their parents’ buildings to dazzle the female gender. And there’d been a lot of dazzling. From the corner of his eye, he caught a knowing smile on Felicity’s face. 

Tommy shrugged and tried to look innocent. He pressed the already glowing button for the 14th floor again. “Who knows what dad was thinking.”

Felicity scoffed. “Please, your reputation travels. And didn’t you wonder why at QC you received such personalized attention? Security escorted you everywhere.”

“Moira said I was a VIP.”

Felicity smirked and shook her head. “I heard stories from the other assistants. You might have always been charmingly non-aggressive about it, but you dated or attempted to date—and I use the term date loosely—every assistant, sales rep, manager or intern below the age of thirty-five.”

“But above 18,” he made sure to point out. He shrugged. “No one complained to me.”

“No, they complained to HR.”

“That I, um, dated them?”

“No, that you stopped dating them. Worse yet, when you moved on to the person they shared a floor, department, or cubicle with.”

Oliver shook his head and made a tisking sound. “Tommy, really?”

“Hey, no judging. I was honest about what it was and I was going through things. Besides, I felt it only my duty to put myself out there more.” He cocked his thumb Oliver’s direction. “When this guy left, he dashed a lot of fantasies. I merely stepped in to keep dreams alive.”

Oliver uncomfortably cleared his throat. 

“I’m sure you did,” Felicity said tartly.

“You think I was bad, this guy has been swimming in the office pool since he hit puberty. Drowning in it.”

“Tommy.” He said his name as a warning but his oldest friend didn’t get the hint. Felicity untangled their fingers.

“Do you know how many times he’d vanish on me only to pop up twenty minutes later slinking out of some supply closet?”

“Oh really?” Felicity asked sounding more curious than upset. So far. 

“Yes, and let me tell you about the three—”

“Tommy!” He barked and glowered at him. “That’s enough.”

Felicity shook her head looking much more relaxed than when she entered the elevator. “Oh it’s not near enough, but we’ll have to save it for later.” 

They’d reached their floor.

Game on. 

*** 

Felicity tried to ignore Oliver’s hand. It was once again discretely resting at the small of her back as they exited the elevator and strode down the corridor. Excitement, nervousness, and a touch of fear fluttered in her belly. Some of the thrill, she accepted, stemmed from Oliver’s touch. He made her feel things even when it wasn’t convenient. Like the moment he’d pressed a kiss to the back of her hand downstairs. His public support meant more to her than any gift he could have given. Perhaps more than the simple, gallant gesture should have meant. 

As the conversation in the elevator reminded her, Oliver Queen was very good at being charming. What was it that Sondheim musical said? _‘I was raised to be charming, not sincere’_

That wasn’t Oliver. Shallow was the last word she’d use to describe him—at least post Gambit— but just like Tommy and his office hookups, Oliver had been clear about what this was. She could soak up all the attention he wanted to lavish as long as she remembered this was not supposed to last forever. 

A sharp pang hit her in the solar plexus. Nerves. Just nerves. She was being dragged through the tabloids while threat of arrest for murder hung over her head. On top of that, her mother had almost flown to Starling! And then Curtis. Of course she was anxious. She’d convinced her mom to stay in Vegas for now and she couldn’t do anything about Curtis or the papers, but no, she wasn’t going to let that distract her today. Not now. Not here. She’d waited a long time for this. 

If Queen Consolidated’s Applied Science Building had been her white whale, Merlyn Global was her mythical unicorn. 

She took a controlled, cleansing breath, rounded the corner, and then smiled warmly at the receptionist who rose to greet them. Merlyn Global’s Public Relation and In House Media Department occupied its own floor. Like the lobby, the design palate favored darker wood accents. The tones were echoed in the stylish leather chairs positioned in the different seating areas. The nondescript beige carpet kept the noise levels low and lightened the space. Expensive, yet generic and a bit outdated. She was counting on Merlyn Global’s servers being the same. . 

The woman behind the name plate glanced at their badges. 

“Mr. Merlyn…”

“Please, call me Tommy,” he said, giving her one of his warmest smiles.

That was Tommy, always ready to jump in the pool.

Ms. Lydia Richmond did not lose her warm expression but neither was she swayed by his well proven charm, something that surprised Felicity. She reassessed the woman. She wasn’t just another pretty face to greet clients. Lydia was probably a couple years younger than her, also blond and about the same build. And likely a very effective gatekeeper. 

“Mr. Merlyn,” Lydia began again a little more firmly, “Ms. Dickerson will be available to see you shortly. Your guests can wait here for your return. Please, have a seat.” 

Doing as she was directed, Felicity sat and set the Birkin bag she’d borrowed from Thea next to her. Oliver sat on her other side; he loosened his tie and removed his jacket like he was settling in. 

Felicity pulled out a tablet, one of many devices she was carrying around. Unlike the others in the bag, it was completely average. She started scrolling through Instagram. 

Casually, trying to get into the part, she asked, “Where do you think we should go to lunch?”

Tommy helpfully tossed out a few options. A week ago, she would have jumped at the chance to dine at any of them, but now, knowing the cameras that would be lying in wait no matter where they went, all sounded awful. Fortunately, they weren’t actually planning lunch afterwards. She’d faced the hordes once already this week when she’d had to venture out to the computer store. 

Regret moved through her. Oliver hadn’t wanted her to go. She hasn’t wanted to go, but by that time, there’d been no one she could send with enough knowledge to know what she needed. 

As if she’d conjured him up by thinking of him, her phone played the opening bars to the Doctor Who theme. Curtis was sending her a text. She didn’t want to look. He’d been her original plan A in regard the computer center, but that had been before. She’d even dialed him up, but before she could ask for his help, he’d said he needed some space. And that he had to decide and that he’d text her when he did. Her gut told her he already had.

So why put off confirming the inevitable?

Felicity opened the message and read his brief text. It was what she expected. Dreams of their joint company were dead; he’d taken Ray’s offer. 

It wasn’t the end of the world, she told herself. Not every angel had pulled their seed money after news of her as a murder suspect got out, but enough had that Curtis’s defection to Palmer Tech was somewhat understandable, even if it felt like a betrayal. She couldn’t be mad at Ray. He’d made it clear, even with the cloud hanging over her head, he wanted her too. 

She’d told him she wouldn’t change her mind. Had that been a mistake? 

No. She might not know what she was going to do now—she hadn’t even told anyone about Curtis yet—but she knew what she wasn’t going to do. So her dreams were on hold a little longer. So what? An ache started to build. 

A gentle weight fell on her arm. She looked up into Oliver’s worried face. “Is everything ok?”

She didn’t want to lie to him. She drew in a deep breath and fixed a smile in place. “No, not exactly, but it’s not important right now.” Concern weighted his brow, however, he didn’t press for answers. He did, though, take her hand again, silently giving her his support. She smiled a little more genuinely. 

A few minutes later, a woman around Oliver and Tommy’s age with short, dark hair came down the hall toward them. Felicity set her tablet on the coffee table and rose to her feet, as did Oliver and Tommy. She had met the woman before. Ashley Dickerson. She’d been in a few of the meetings about the upcoming merger with Queen Consolidated. Ms. Dickerson smiled and stretched out her hand. Not to her, but to Oliver. 

“Welcome back to Starling City, Mr. Queen.” She clasped his hand warmly while she introduced herself, only reluctantly letting go. Then Dickerson turned her eyes on her.

“Ms. Smoak, isn’t it? How nice to see you again.” Her tone remained warm, but for a moment there’d been a flicker of distaste in her eyes. Felicity wouldn’t have pegged her for a _Star City Enquirer_ fan. 

After all, Ms. Dickerson was an expert in her field. Felicity had admired her for ending public resistance to the merger. Job loss was inevitable with QC and MG’s close proximity and the number of redundant positions that would exist once they became one company, but Dickerson launched a campaign that framed the question as how to save the most jobs now and create the potential for the most new jobs later. Merlyn Global needed a strong leader at its helm, someone with a vision for its future. Ashley Dickerson carefully altered the public’s thinking until they accepted Moira Queen was the only one up for the task. 

“Yes, nice to see you again too,” Felicity murmured even as Ms. Dickerson turned away and greeted Tommy like an old friend. She was pretty sure not like _that_ kind of old friend, but Tommy got around, so she reserved judgement. When she was done with her reunion, Ashley’s eyes returned to Tommy’s guests, speculatively lingering for an extra beat but not so long as to seem obviously rude. 

Felicity firmed up her smile. Ms. Dickerson was probably outlining in her mind the number one way for Tommy to improve his current image; stop associating with the other suspect in the murder investigation. Then once again, Ashley turned her corporate smile on Tommy.

“Shall we go back and get started? We don’t want to keep your friends waiting too long. My team is set up in the conference room.”

For a second, Tommy’s dread showed through; he’d been to these reimaging sessions before, but then he flashed his trademark boyish grin and gestured forward. “Lead the way.” 

Felicity waited until they vanished down a corridor. “I’m going to slip down to the ladies room,” she announced. She stood and leaned down to press a kiss to Oliver’s cheek, lingering to speak softly in Oliver’s ear. 

“I’ll see you soon. Leave your jacket,” she told him and then left the way they’d entered. She paused just beyond the receptionist’s view.

Yes, she was probably overthinking things, but the receptionist would see Oliver’s jacket and her tablet and know they both planned to return. Better to obsess over mundane details than start panicking about what they were about to do. 

A hand touched her shoulder. She jumped. 

“Everything ok?” Oliver asked.

“I’m fine. Let’s do this.”

***

They returned to the main corridor, continuing past the elevators until they saw signs for the restrooms. There was one on either side of their target. The lock on the janitor’s closet was a simple electronic switch; in the field of high security, that made it about as secure as the push knobs on a bedroom door. This lock’s release button was a localized magnetic pulse that disrupted the electricity just long enough for the lock to disengage when someone swiped the correct key card. She didn’t have the card, but she could duplicate the electronic pulse. All she needed was a little cover from the cameras. 

Oliver leaned close, breaking that natural barrier of personal space. She couldn’t control the shiver of excitement that coursed through her body, tingling her nerve endings and making her hyper aware of her skin and his heat and his breath upon her neck. 

If anyone was watching, they would see imminent PDA, not a couple about to commit corporate espionage. Was it corporate espionage if the corporate secrets were the last ones they were after? Another shiver of excitement went through her. If she didn’t get her hormones under control soon, she wouldn’t be able to think long enough to do anything worthy of being arrested. 

“Are you ready? Your hands should be blocked from the cameras.” He whispered tenderly for her ears only. “Do it as this group passes.”

Mind back on the mission, she maneuvered the bag and pulled out one of her custom built devices; at first glance—and even second—it looked like a touchscreen phone. It wasn’t. 

She counted down, eyeing the four guys returning from lunch. Five, four, three, two, she counted down in her head. The group was right next to them. She engaged her device, heard the soft snick of the lock opening. Then, making use of the lag problem she’d had looping the Applied Science cameras, she froze the cameras in the corridor. It wouldn’t last more than ten seconds; glitches happened sometimes. They were in a low security area. Even if it was noticed, no one in the control room should get too excited. 

She waited another two agonizing seconds to make sure the lunch crowd wouldn’t look back and then she pulled open the closet door. She and Oliver crowded inside. When the feed unfroze, they’d have vanished from view but anyone watching would assume they’d entered a restroom.

Oliver flipped on the light switch. The space was large for a storage closet. Longer than it was wide. She estimated about 7x14 feet. In the front corner next to the door, a faucet hovered over a shallow basin with a floor drain in it, presumably where the yellow mopping bucket got dumped after use. A shelf set half way up the wall ran the length of the room, filled with supplies like soap refills, individually wrapped toilet rolls, disinfectant and other cleaning agents. Hugging the wall beneath it, large cardboard boxes stuck out, a couple of them half cut open exposing more toilet paper rolls and bundles of paper towels.

She set the ridiculously expensive pinkish-orange bag on top of one of the boxes and pulled out what she needed, worrying the whole time it might fall or some solvent might drip on it.

“Why couldn’t your sister have a cheap, ten dollar tote that she got from Public Television like every other person in the world?” she asked, shaking her head as she maneuvered deeper in the room, sidling around a couple industrial looking vacuums, a pressure washer, and other various tools of the trade. 

“Did you ask her?”

“She just shrugged. Then as if to make me less freaked about a bag worth more than every car I’ve ever owned put together, she said ostrich skin was out of style.”

“At least you won’t forget and leave it behind.” 

“There’s that.”

At the back wall, she found what she was looking for. 

“Here, help me move this.” She set her electronics and wire leads to the side and then walked a step ladder in Oliver’s direction. She had to shift a tall box of fluorescent light tubes as well, but it was only half full and not heavy. Paper towels, fluorescent lights? 

“Remind me to tell your mom Merlyn Global has a long way to go before it goes Green,” she muttered and then opened the wide, grey, metal access panel. 

One half was taken up by the circuit breaker, carefully marked so the corresponding switch could be flipped and electricity safely turned off in specific areas. But it was the other half she was interested in. That side revealed the secret infrastructure running in the walls. Most people had no idea how many wires and cables were needed beyond simple electric conduits. It was just a matter of knowing which one was the one she was looking for. There were lots of helpful labels there too. 

“How’s it coming?”

“Give me another second. Ok, done. I’ve piggy backed into the video feed. And…perfect. The corridor and the stairwell are currently empty. Now I can copy that feed and use it to make an undetectable loop and…there. Anyone looking at the feed will only see an empty staircase until I decide otherwise.”

“And the corridor?” 

Felicity mostly closed the access panel. It couldn’t completely shut because of her wires running to a mini tablet that she would be able to remotely access to take control of the different cameras and other things as needed during the mission. It was a big upgrade from what she had for her first B&E. She grabbed the bag and nodded. “I’ve looped the empty corridor for the next thirty seconds.” Which gave them plenty of time to cross the hallway to the stairs unseen. Later on their way back, she’d have to repeat the smokescreen. Unlike the stairs, the hallways of Merlyn Global were too busy to leave looking empty the whole time they were gone.

Oliver edged the door open a fraction, peered out, gestured it was clear and opened the door wide. She quickly exited with him close behind. They briskly traversed the distance to the stairs. Using his sleeve, Oliver again cautiously opened the door and peeked, even though she’d already verified the stairwell was empty. She wasn’t the only one overthinking things.

Once in the stairwell, Oliver pulled a pair of leather gloves from his pocket. He’d handle touching any surfaces from here out. She didn’t dare wear gloves. They would slow down her typing.

“I’ll carry it.” Oliver took his sister’s Birkin bag and sprinted up the stairs. Felicity stayed right behind him, but by the time they climbed to the landing for the sixteenth floor, she was feeling a lot more winded than Oliver looked. Fine, once this whole mess was done, she’d go with Oliver to Wildcat’s more often. But it still needed a juice bar. 

While she caught her breath, Oliver pulled out her new laptop. She’d hated waiting the extra few days, but the time meant she’d been able to replace her electronics. If the one she’d customized for Marcus’s niece was a cheetah in the plains of the Serengeti, her new baby was a bullet train across Europe. 

She let Oliver act as a table and opened the laptop, the screen powering up in a flash. She selected one of her prewritten files and began a hack around the needed authorized key card. Popping the lock was easy for her, but delaying a report about the opening immediately to the guard station took a little extra finagling. When the light on the door turned green, she checked the camera feed to make sure no one was coming and seamlessly looped the new corridor. Then she closed the lid of her laptop and Oliver swiftly returned it to the bag and handed her the smaller tablet to keep an eye on the real feed.

A tablet would have been convenient to use for the whole operation, but the power she was going to need to crack the servers would meant changing out all the guts rather than a few tweaks. She’d done it before and would do it again but the delay to customize even the laptop had been too long. She might have been able to redo a tablet completely in addition to the other gadgets she’d made if Oliver hadn’t insisted on time gobblers like sleep, food, and sex. 

Ok, the sex breaks might have been at her insistence but it was Oliver’s fault for being all mouthwateringly sexy. Oliver had kind of moved into her room ever since they moved back into the mansion. What was she supposed to do? Not jump him when he’d looked at her like that? Donna Smoak hadn’t raised a fool. 

On that first night, she’d been drained, shocked to her core to be a suspect in a murder investigation and feeling more alone and scared about what might happen next than she wanted to admit. As exhausted as she had been, if Oliver hadn’t been there, she would have spent the night worrying and not slept a wink. But he had been there, demanding nothing from her but the chance to hold her while she slept. She got that fluttery feeling in her chest just remembering it. 

She’d woken up that morning, warm, and tucked in his embrace. His mother yelling outside the door had stripped a lot of the cozy feels, but her noise hadn’t detracted from what Oliver being there meant to her. And now he was doing it again, being there when she needed him. She knew he still had reservations about her plan, but he’d agreed to it. Not because he felt it was necessary, but because he trusted her judgement. Talk about an aphrodisiac. 

“You ready?” Oliver asked. 

She nodded and he cracked the security door, once again double checking that the corridor was empty. It was kind of cute. He beckoned her to follow. She was grateful for MG’s consistency in décor. The same beige carpet ran on the 16th floor as on the 14th floor, deadening the sound her heels as they rushed down to the end. 

The server room butted up behind the monitor room with a hallway running all the way around. Security split its presence between the lobby and the 16th floor when not actively patrolling the halls or responding to a call. It was a little after one, a time when many employees came back from lunch which meant most guards were downstairs watching the returning crowd. 

They made it to the server room without incident. On this level, it wasn’t locked, an extra layer of security she was sure Diggle would add once MG was under the umbrella of QC, but for now, their failure worked to their advantage. She verified it was empty, looped the cameras and they went in. Oliver handed her the bag with her laptop and stationed himself at the other end of the room where there was a second door. She searched for an easy access point. She chose one, connected her new beauty, pulled up the code she’d pre-started, and began the dance. 

Ideally, once she was in, she’d have loved to make a copy of all the files just to be on the safe side, but that would take far too long. She could have installed a relay beacon so she could access the servers later, but she wasn’t willing to leave any trace behind. Instead, she was going to have to trust the parameters she set would net the information she needed.

She smiled as her screen filled with code. MG’s system was the best money could buy…three years ago. Curtis could have hacked them in a few hours. But she was Felicity Smoak. With the work she’d done ahead of time, all she needed was ten minutes. Time flew by. Her world became the hum of electronics and the rapid patter of her fingertips flying across her keyboard. Finally, she sighed in satisfaction. The last barrier fell.

She was in.

She enacted the parameters and her system began copying any files Malcolm had ever touched plus anything mentioning Unidac or the Queens. The mission was running ahead of schedule so she also ran a live search of the data, typing in _The Queen’s Gambit_. Some image files were flagged but they required getting through another level of security. She made sure they downloaded but would tackle breaking the password later. 

Her processors were lightning speed but the overall download was still only at 25%. Since there was time, she started another live query. 

Typing up Robert Queen produced a long list of files. She opened a few memos, mundane stuff about building codes in the Glades. And then came to a video file. Her curiosity was piqued. She clicked the link and like earlier, a request for a password popped up. Again she made certain the file was downloaded. Then, too curious to wait, she decided to crack the code.

Based on the high level of security she’d hacked so far, she started to choose a decryption protocol that matched it, one that would require users to use the highest standards of passwords, a meaningless string of characters and symbols, but then she hesitated. The system was advanced for its time, but Malcolm Merlyn struck her as old school. Computers were not his playground. Very few could have breached his system. Maybe he’d assumed he didn’t need another layer. 

She switched to the decryption algorithm that focused first on names, dates, phrases and other personal data keyed around Malcolm Merlyn. His password was matched almost immediately. Rebecca, the name of his murdered wife, and the date of her death. 

More information on the video file opened up. The extension tab was labeled Robert Queen/Oliver Enterprises. Oliver Enterprises, a company name that had caught her eye in earlier research dives, no longer existed. It had been a holding company for Queen Consolidated and manufactured the concrete needed for other QC builds before they’d sold off the building last year. The video might not be anything more than some promotional thing for Queen Consolidated, but the run time wasn’t very long. She clicked play.

It wasn’t a promo or an interview. From the timestamp and high angle, it was immediately recognizable as security footage. 

There were two middle aged men arguing, one in a blue dress shirt and one wearing a charcoal suit. Because of the angle, neither face was very clear; she saw mostly the tops of heads. She might be able to do a screen grab and identify faces if she took it frame by frame but otherwise they were moving too fast to make out features. 

The two men circled each other on a wide metal grate above a large vat of what looked like soupy cement which made sense if it was footage from the Oliver Company. There was no audio but the exchange quickly became heated with both of them pushing and grabbing at each other to make their points. They switched positions making Felicity positive she would be able to identify the man in blue if his picture was on file anywhere. Then suddenly, things escalated.

The man in the blue shirt grabbed the man in the suit by the shoulders. He shook him off, only for the man in blue to take a step back at the same time. He lost his balance and fell head first into the vat as the other man clawed at the air, unable to stop him. She sucked in her breath when she realized no one was surfacing from the vat. And gasped again when the man in the suit turned and looked nearly straight at the camera. She recognized that face. Robert Queen. 

Rattled, she played it again. Nothing changed. She tried to verify the videos authenticity but ran out of time. Lost track of time was more like it. It wasn’t until Oliver left post to check on her that she looked up. Oliver didn’t say a word, merely tapped his watch. Automatically, she checked the time. They’d been in the server room twenty-five minutes. Frack. 

She checked her download and saw they’d needed every bit of the time they’d taken. The files needed a little longer. Getting ready to go, she checked the live feeds and nearly swore. She should have been paying closer attention. 

A guard was making his rounds. The server room was sure to be included and there was no place to hide. She calculated how far away the guard was and estimated how quickly he’d reach the server room. 

If they left in the next forty seconds there should be time for her and Oliver to slip down the hall and into the stairwell before the guard rounded the corner and saw them but that would still be too late since the set of cameras in the loop included one that would be on the guard before he turned the corner. So even before he did, he would vanish between one camera and the next. If anyone was paying any attention in the control center, they were about to have a big problem. A light blinked on her computer. The download was complete and they needed to run. 

She yanked the wires from the server, rapidly stashed her laptop and then with the device controlling the cameras in her hand, headed to the exit. Oliver caught on to her urgency, taking the bag to free her up from the weight and distraction. She spent a precious second consulting the screen again, then, set the empty hallway loop in place to hide their exodus with the one in the server room to expire in ten seconds. 

God, they were cutting it too close. Someone was going to notice. 

She nodded to Oliver and he pushed open the door. They scrambled silently down the carpeted hall. They’d just reached the stair access door when they heard the squawk of a radio followed by a surprised cry.

“Wait, what happened?”

Dammit. In the control room, they knew they’d been hacked. 

They slipped into the stairwell and raced down the stairs, faster then she should in heels but she didn’t dare take the railing to steady herself for fear of leaving fingerprints. They rounded the landing at the fifteenth floor and were halfway down to the fourteenth when they heard the access door swing open.

“Someone’s down there. Go! Go!” A deep voice shouted. 

Felicity tried to move faster. And she would have been fine except she got distracted looking at the handheld tablet. On the bright side, it showed the hallway on the fourteenth floor empty but that was when her luck ran out. She missed the final step before the 14th floor landing and hurtled arms outstretched toward the unforgiving concrete.

Instantly she knew contact would scrap her knees and palms and if the thunderous crash she was about to make wasn’t bad enough, even if there was time to recover and scramble to safety before the guards in pursuit caught up, the blood she was about to leave behind would identify her anyway. How handy that the police now had her DNA on file. They’d wanted it to rule out against the blood spots in her car, but they’d be just as happy to match it up to a breaking and entering charge. 

Why hadn’t she swapped out her heels for Keds or at least flats? She closed her eyes, bracing for a very hard landing, but it never came. Or at least the hard landing she was expecting. She still went down but she was cushioned by Oliver who caught her and twisted. Her forward momentum still sent them to the landing in a heap but with her on top of him and no cuts or scraps. And by some other miracle, she kept the device controlling the camera fisted in her grip. 

Oliver pulled her to her feet before her brain unscrambled. Still off balance, he kept his arm anchored around her waist to keep her from pitching forward. Feet pounded on the metal stairs above them. The metallic echo reverberated through her skull like they were inside a bell tower. They exchanged urgent looks and then Oliver bent to snatch something off the ground and shoved it in her hands. 

Oh. Her shoe. That’s why she was off balance. 

Hands shaking, she slipped on her shoe while Oliver grabbed the bag that also had gone flying. She’d worry about any damage later. Now they needed to get out of the stairwell and across the hall to the janitor’s closet before they were caught. From the sound of it, their pursuers were about to reach the half landing above them. They had seconds before they were spotted. With no time to loop the hallway feed, she went for broke and crashed all the cameras in the building, set off a blaring alarm to cover the sound of their exit and pushed the stairway door open.

She must have looked as unsteady as she still felt. Oliver, not leaving anything to chance, hauled her up against his side and half dragged, half carried her across the hall. She did her thing with the lock on the door and they were back in the janitor’s closet out of sight. The crashed surveillance system would reboot in a quick five minutes, but those five minutes meant the intruders from the standpoint of the guards could be anywhere. But they weren’t in the clear yet.

She handed the device she had clamped in her hand to Oliver and then she scooted to the back corner. She opened the grey panel and quickly disconnected the clamps and wires from the cables and tossed all the parts to Oliver, followed by the tablet she’d had connected to them. He buried them in the Birkin bag. Then, she grabbed a handy bottle of Windex and a paper towel off the shelf and quickly cleaned off any possible fingerprints before shutting the panel. She moved the florescent bulbs and the ladder back in place. She wiped off the ladder just in case. Abruptly, the blaring alarm cut off. 

Outside they could now hear a commotion in the hallway. Doors for the bathrooms were pushed open. Shouting voices told them every stall was being searched.

“What about this this door?”

The closet handle rattled. She froze. If she got one of her “phones” from the bag, she could block the lock from being opened but they had nowhere to run. They’d have to come out some time. Not giving her time to think, Oliver killed the light, grabbed her and hauled her up on top of something—had to be one of the huge unopened boxes of toilet paper— and sealed his mouth over hers. 

Automatically her hands went to his shoulders and then around his neck, her fingers sinking into the hair at the back of his head. His strong hands grasped her tightly, urging her to wrap her legs around his waist. His mouth slanted roughly over hers, demanding she go from zero to sixty. She was already buzzing on adrenaline; it wasn’t hard to do. 

She understood what he was trying to do even as heat roared across her skin. Her heart which had already been beating fast now pounded, stark desire shook her to her core. She tried to help the picture along, finding his tie and tugging it down. She undid the top buttons on his shirt and then felt for his belt buckle. She went a little low. 

The adrenaline had hit Oliver too. He was rock hard and straining against the fabric.

She got the buckle undone and then he pushed her hands out of the way to free the button on his trousers and lowered the zipper. He pushed the fabric down out of the way then grasped her bottom and yanked her forward, pushing the hemline of her dress high so only the thin fabrics of their underwear separated them from the heat. No, make that only her underwear separating them. 

God, when Oliver committed to the cliché, he really committed. 

She spread her legs wider, letting him position one of her thighs higher over his hip, riding more firmly against the hard, hot ridge of him. He ground back against her and an electric pulse of pure pleasure speared though her body. She moaned loudly, unable to separate her desire from the show they were about to put on. 

Even knowing they were about to be interrupted, she still jumped and yelped when the door was violently yanked open. She wasn’t the only one. 

“Ah jeez!” Someone shouted. 

She squinted against the sudden, bright light of the hallway, looking up just as one of the guards cursed and let go of the door, only for it to be swung back open before it completely shut. The moment they were interrupted, Oliver pulled her tight to his body, keeping the state of her rucked up skirt private, but leaving his naked ass public. It was the second time it had taken the spotlight since they’d been together. 

The guard sighed and looked at someone out of sight. He shook his head. “Keep looking, I’ll take care of these two.” 

Mortified and weak with relief, she put her head down on Oliver’s shoulder. In the background, she heard a tinny voice ask a question through the radio. Someone with the first guard muttered, “No, it’s an unrelated issue” and took off. 

The guard that stayed behind loudly sighed again before finally asking, “Sir, could you please step back and pull your pants up?” 

There was a long suffering note to his request. Like this wasn’t his first time finding a couple making love in a supply closet. But while Oliver was complying and she was straightening her own clothes, the guard looked away and happened to glance right inside the open mouth of Thea’s Birkin bag. A glint came into his eyes that gave her real worry. 

A laptop, a tablet, a mini tablet and even three cell phones weren’t that uncommon in the business world. And the special connector cables she’d used to tap into the video feeds and access the alarm were bunched beneath identifiable charging cables. Most people wouldn’t suspect anything out of the ordinary. Equipment came with a lot of cords. Still, the guard’s find prompted him to pointedly ask questions.

“How did you get in the closet? The door should be locked.” 

“It wasn’t latched,” she said. He had no way of disputing that but he still eyed her bag with distrust. She stifled a groan. She was confident all her equipment could pass an inspection if it came to that but avoiding a long interrogation up on the 16th floor was vastly preferable. Or worse yet, if MG chose to turn them over to the cops they might even be able to hold them on suspicion, while trying to come up with some kind of proof. Not only didn’t she have that kind of time to waste, but her reputation was already in shreds. 

Her worries proved unnecessary. 

When Oliver finished righting his clothing, he tuned to the guard and all it took was his face and a glance at the ID pinned to his tie to confirm his identity. Simple as that, the suspicious look on the guard’s face fled. More than that, he was star struck.

“Oh gosh, it’s you! Oliver Queen. I can’t believe it. Wait till I tell the guys.”

“Rodney, is it?” Oliver asked reading his badge. He extended his hand. 

The guard eagerly shook it. “This is so surreal. To actually meet one of the legends. Your upcoming exit is actually called the Toliver Protocol. It’s been around since you and Tommy Merlyn were still in high school.” He looked around the supply closet like it was Yankee Stadium and then reached for his phone. “Can I get a selfie?”

The rest of the incident was an embarrassing blur. She was mortifyingly sure she made it into one of the half dozen pics Rodney took while he was fanboying. Then they were escorted back to the waiting room to retrieve their personal belongings before being stripped of their badges in front of the receptionist. 

The walk of shame was completed after they were taken down to the lobby where their pictures were taken again, this time officially at the security station to be kept on a special watch list in case they made any future visits. Only then were they left to wait for Tommy. She was pretty sure Rodney was supposed to have sent them out on the streets but Oliver had asked if just this one time an exception could be made and Rodney couldn’t say no to his idol. Her cheeks flamed the whole time, but they’d pulled it off. 

An interminable ten minutes later, Tommy finally joined them. Hey, she’s the one that asked him to make sure they had plenty of time. 

They left and after a brief debate on whether to head to Verdant or the mansion, the mansion won out. The security at the gate trumped the slim possibility of Moira wandering in unexpectedly when she was supposed to be at work. 

On the drive back as the adrenaline finished wearing off, suddenly all Felicity could think about was the video she’d discovered. She would run tests, but it had looked real to her. In Robert Queen’s messages to his children, he’d mentioned mistakes, but this was worse than what she could have guessed. How was she going to break yet more bad news to Oliver and Thea? Did Moira know? Who was the other man in the video? That’s where she’d start

She set up in the conservatory again and sent everyone else away with the understanding she was going to start digging through the chunk of data she acquired. Once alone, she set about validating the video and in the process realized the file was part of a much larger folder. Forty-five minutes later, Oliver returned with a lunch tray he’d put together. She set the sandwiches aside and asked him to sit down. 

*** 

Oliver sat at Felicity’s request, not for his own comfort but for hers. As before, Felicity had commandeered one of the small, round, drink tables to place her laptop on and sat on the horizontal edge of a flat lounge. She was tense: her brows drawn, shoulders tight and mouth pinched with worry. And beneath it all was an underlying ache in her expression that reminded him of how she looked before she told him his father had been murdered. 

He sat next to her, waiting while she gathered her thoughts. A silent Felicity was always a bad sign. Finally, she spoke. “I found something.”

He nodded, not wanting to interrupt. 

“While we were still at Merlyn Global, while the files were downloading, I ran a separate query with your father’s name.” She spoke slower than she normally did. Softer too. He was getting a sick feeling in his stomach. “As you know, the program I wrote sought out and copied only files relating to your family and anything that Malcolm had any connection to. Anything he created or touched in some way. That turned out to be a lot and it’s going to take more time to go through it all. My query flagged your dad’s name in a lot of files, most of those will presumably be business related, but there was one video.” She shook her head sorrowfully. “I can’t keep this from you, but it’s not pretty.”

She didn’t waste any more words. She clicked the file, hit play, and reached for his hand. At first he didn’t know what he was looking at, but it wasn’t a long video. A man fell back and plunged a couple stories down into a vat of concrete and his father’s face turned and stared into the camera. He realized he was squeezing Felicity’s hand hard and made himself let go. He stood, needing to move, and began to pace, sucking in oxygen through his nose to keep from being sick. He shook his head and pointed. 

“That…that can’t be real.” 

“I so sorry, but I checked for authenticity. I can’t find any indication that’s it’s been doctored.”

“Play it again.”

“Are you sure you want to see—”

“Play it again.”

Reluctantly, Felicity did as he asked. Once wasn’t enough. He came back and sat down to watch it again up close. And again. And again. It didn’t get better. Still, he clung to slim hope. 

“Can you find out who the other man is?” Maybe the video was misleading. Maybe the man rose up out of the vat the second the video ended.

“Henry Goodman, a councilman from the Glades. I ran facial recognition and got a match with a missing person’s report filed in 2002.”

“A missing person’s report. So did they—”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, they never found him.”

Oliver nodded, for a moment not really comprehending what any of it meant. And then the moment passed and there was no denying it any longer. His throat was almost too closed up to speak.

“My father was a murderer.” 

“I saw an accident, not a murder.”

He’d known his father was far from perfect but if for the last eight years he’d revisited and reviewed every memory of his mother with new harder eyes, he’d done the opposite for his father. Painting over his past mistakes with a gentler brush. No more. 

“Intentional or not, he killed him. And he covered it up. Hiding the truth only makes what happened more damning.”

“We may never know why he made that choice, but I think Malcolm Merlyn was using it against him.”

“You think he was blackmailing him?”

“Not a straightforward kind of blackmail. I combed over your family’s financials. There’s no pattern of payoffs, but the video proves Merlyn was holding something over your father’s head. And this is bigger than your family. I didn’t realize it at first, but,” she clicked a different tab and a list of names appeared, “your father’s video was part of a much larger folder. Recognize the names?”

It only took him a moment. “Dad’s list.”

Felicity nodded. “Only it doesn’t stop at names. Photos, videos, financials reports, affidavits and other incriminating documents. I could never understand what connected the names on the list before. Half were the movers and shakers of Starling City and half were career criminals. This explains it. It was a list of everyone he had something on. And by he, I mean Malcolm Merlyn. The list belonged to him. And this,” she held up a thumb drive, “says where the bodies are buried. Figuratively, of course. I mean, Goodman was declared legally dead in 2003 but they never found…never mind, that’s not important.”

“Why did you put it on a seperate fob?”

“Oh, this is way too sensitive to have sitting around on anything connected to the internet.”

“It’s valuable?”

“With the names on this list? Incomprehensibly so. If having it doesn’t get us killed first.”


	29. Chapter 29

**Author's Note:**

_My apologies for missing my normal midweek post. After two weeks away (I hit my 50k NaNoWriMo goal!!), I shamefully admit to simply forgetting. I'll do better in the future, lol. _

**Chapter 29**

Oliver showed Thea the video, a move that surprised Felicity. There had been so much to take in lately, but Oliver had been adamant. He said as much as he wished he could spare his sister, there’d been too many secrets rotting the core of their family. 

It was hard to say how Thea took it. Oliver played the video and she’d been in denial at first, just as he’d been. Once they had convinced her it was real, before they could get a gauge on what she was thinking, she asked for space to process it. 

Sharing with Tommy his father’s blackmail list had been the next bomb they’d dropped.

“But why? My dad was a control freak but an encyclopedia of blackmail is over the top even for him. And what does any of this have to do with the things sitting in my basement?”

“We don’t know yet,” Felicity told him. “I’m still going through the data.”

“Do we know anything?

Oliver gestured at her to take the lead in explaining.

“Well, we know the List folder hasn’t been accessed since before Malcolm died but that doesn’t rule anyone else helping him at MG. Like I’ve explained before, the servers there are weirdly compartmentalized. If someone hadn’t been given access to the specific server he’d put them on, they could have searched the company database and not found any record of his files.”

“But you managed to search the whole database. Why couldn’t anyone else?”

“Felicity isn’t just anyone.”

She warmed under Oliver’s matter of fact praise. “I knew about the compartmentalizing, so I built the search to look places that normally one would have to know about to find. The known unknown, if you will. Only someone else given direct access or another computer expert like me would find it.” She left unsaid how few computer experts were anything like her. 

“Is that it? Proof by the absence of proof?” Tommy sounded frustrated and she understood his impatience. 

“There is more. Even three years ago, a majority of the industrial buildings in the Glades were sitting abandoned. And probably about a quarter of homes, apartments, and other business sites were derelict as well. Guess who was quietly buying them up? The activity dates back almost a decade.”

“My dad? That doesn’t make sense.” Tommy paced, shaking his head. “He hated the Glades. He even tried to shut down Mom’s clinic. Why would he want property there? What did he do with them?”

“He only got so far as acquiring properties.”

“My father didn’t buy buildings for ten years in a part of the city he hated without big plans. What was he waiting for?”

“I think waiting was the key,” Felicity explained. “I found detailed, complicated, rebuilding from the ground up, plans that proposed a new Glades, but the plans hinged on him having control of close to 70 percent of that part of the city.

“The only way the financials worked was if he stuck to his pattern of buying the condemned or abandoned buildings on the cheap, and for that, he’d have to keep waiting. I mean, the Glades have been dying, but not so fast Malcolm wouldn’t have had to wait at least another twenty years for enough properties to fit his criteria and that was if things like our current rehab initiative never happened.”

Tommy tilted his head looking skeptical. “My dad could be patient; he once served the same Brussel sprouts for dinner for a week until I ate them, but yeah, no, he wasn’t the kind of patient that waits thirty years.”

“That’s it, isn’t it?” Oliver frowned, lines forming on his forehead and pulling the corners of his mouth down. He began to shake his head as if he couldn’t believe whatever he was thinking.

“What?”

“What he was planning to do with the earthquake machines. Speed up the time line.”

“Use them? In the Glades? Theoretically, it could work.” Felicity crossed her arms and cocked her head to the side, considering the idea. “Let a freak earthquake render homes and businesses uninhabitable and then swoop in to buy up the properties he needed to complete his project. But thousands live in the Glades. How would he get the people out first?”

“You’re assuming he cared about the people.” Tommy said. Felicity paled.

“For a real estate deal? That’s inhuman.”

“Any deal in the Glades would have been more to him than a way to make money. You never heard how he talked about it. When he told me he was going to shut down my mom’s memorial clinic, he called the Glades a pestilence that needed to be stamped out before it infected Starling City.” Tommy shook his head. “The hate I heard, I admit…it scared me.”

“But why? Why would he do it?”

“His mom,” Oliver softly pronounced. 

Tommy gave a shaky nod. “When she was attacked, no one stopped to help. Dad blamed everyone in the Glades. Not just the creep that robbed her and left her to die or the people too afraid to get involved, but I think he blamed everyone living there for allowing it to get that bad in the first place, never mind that Merlyn Global shut down half a dozen plants. I swear, he wasn’t completely sane about it. But I never thought he could do this.”

Felicity nodded. “You’d have to be crazed to think there were any circumstances that made it ok to risk all those lives. Thank God nothing came of it.”

“Not yet.” 

The hard look in Oliver’s eyes and the ice in his voice sent a chill down her spine.

“What do you mean?”

“Tell me this first. Was Malcolm the only one buying up property in the Glades?”

“Per a property search I ran through the records bureau, no one else comes close to his percentage of ownership, but yes, buying up condemned property in the Glades was popular among the movers and shakers of Starling.”

“What about Queen Consolidated? Didn’t you tell me the Foundation owns property in the Glades? Places where stage two of the initiative could start as soon as the ok came through. And Tommy bought Verdant from Mom.”

She nodded. “It’s true, QC and your family personally own a large percentage as well, some old QC facilities, some properties Moira said made good tax write offs. I wouldn’t assume it means anything.”

“It means something. It means we have proof Malcolm wasn’t undertaking his plan all on his own.” Oliver said it as fact, but from the sudden thickness in his voice, it was a fact that hurt him to say. “It’s been so obvious, we just didn’t see it. Maybe didn’t want to.”

“What are you saying?”

“You wanted to find out if Malcolm had a partner, but we’ve known who his partner was the whole time. Mom’s name isn’t on the list. There’s no blackmail material on her. Malcolm wasn’t working on the Markov devices alone. Queen Consolidated owned Unidac. Mom was part of his plan. Probably was part of Dad’s death, too.”

“Oliver, we don’t know that. We don’t know any of that.” But this time, with the horror of what Malcolm had planned too fresh in her mind, she was no longer certain the lack of decisive proof meant innocence. No, she shook her head. Moira had been working to help the Glades, not hurt them. “Your mom shut down the Markov project. And the Queen Foundation is there to improve, not harm the Glades.”

Oliver’s look of hurt resignation didn’t change. 

“A smokescreen. Don’t you see? When Malcolm died, she lost access to the properties Malcolm bought up. But in a couple weeks, guess what changes?”

“No.” The denial rushed to her lips, but he wasn’t wrong. Between properties owned by the Queen’s and Merlyn Global; more than half of what Malcolm’s redevelopment plan needed would be in Moira’s hands once the merger went through. But to get the other half… “No, it’s not possible,” she said, shaking her head. But she couldn’t help remember helping Moira to speed the merger process even when board members voiced their objections to the rush. 

“You know it’s possible,” Oliver said. “Since I’ve been back, I’ve been making excuses. Ignoring what I knew from day one. Pretending we could have a relationship even while perusing answers that would tear us apart. And still I hoped we’d find something to exonerate her, but everything we find puts my mother at the center of this.”

Felicity swallowed, confused for a moment about what relationship he was pretending about. He was talking about his mom, but wouldn’t finding those same answers end their time as well? Before the panicked feeling could take over, she forced herself to stay focused. What was Oliver saying?

“When he died, Malcolm’s will kept Tommy from interfering or having any say about the company, kept him from making any changes that would have stopped the merger. And now after waiting three years, Mom will have the pieces in place to make Malcolm’s plan work. The earthquake devices are even already placed underground in the Glades.” 

“But it’s my club. I control Verdant.”

“With the scandal of Patel’s death hanging over your head, you haven’t been open for days. And with her contacts around town, Moira wouldn’t have a hard time forcing the situation so you would have to sell Verdant back to QC.” 

“I’ll go bankrupt first. Drag it out forever.”

“Getting control of Verdant is only if she wants the legal niceties. She has the basement access codes. She could just as easily send someone in. And when the earthquake hit, Verdant would be at the epicenter, burying the evidence.”

Tommy sat mute, the same pained look that started in Oliver, now moved to his eyes. After his mother’s death and his father’s increasing absence, Felicity knew Robert and Moira Queen had become like surrogate parents for Tommy. He wouldn’t easily believe the worst of Moira, but he looked convinced now. Could Oliver be right? Everything he laid it out was technically feasible but the utter ruthlessness needed to go through with such a plan was unimaginable to her. 

“That can’t be right.” Her denial felt even weaker this time. Was she the naïve one? “You really think Moira plans on letting all those people die? Or that she’d see all the work done in your father’s name turn to rubble? There has to be some other explanation, I—” Felicity broke off when Roy entered the Conservatory from outside.

He looked warily at them all. “Sorry, but have you seen Thea?”

“She wanted some time alone.”

“Yeah, but that was an hour ago. I went to check on her and she’s not in her room anymore. This place is big, but I can’t find her anywhere.”

“You’re worried about her?”

“She was upset, ok. That video thing with your dad, who wouldn’t question everything in their life? But she was more than upset, she was…I don’t know. Off”

The three of them exchanged worried looks. “What do you mean off?”

“She was talking weird. Saying it had to end. And something about letting out all the poison once and for all.” 

Tommy went white. “Oh God, it’s happening again.” 

“No.” Felicity vehemently shook her head at Tommy, “Thea wouldn’t try to hurt herself. Those were accidents before.” God she hoped her faith wasn’t misplaced. But if her judgment about Moira was wrong, what else was she wrong about?

“Let’s just find her,” Oliver said, already moving.

The one thing the boy from the Glades hadn’t done during his search for Thea was check with the staff. Marcus had an answer right away. 

“Miss Thea had the car brought round.”

“She left?”

“Did she say where she was going?” 

“Why yes, to speak to her mother.”

***** 

Oliver stared straight ahead, ignoring the reporters and cameras as he drove his truck out the Mansion’s gate. He should have figured out what Thea planned right away. He’d used the very phrases she’d repeated cryptically back to Roy for why he had to show her the video. She wasn’t planning on hurting herself; she was going to confront their mother. Which—with their mother and what she was planning—could be just as dangerous to Thea. 

“She’s not going to hurt Thea.” Felicity said as if she was reading his mind. 

He wanted to believe that, but he’d wanted to believe his mother couldn’t have hurt his father and couldn’t be planning on killing thousands in a plan suitable for a comic super villain. _Could_ she hurt Thea? Moira hadn’t let Malcolm’s unexpected death stop her. It only delayed the plan. She was nothing if not adaptable. After all, when her own son had become an inconvenience, Moira disowned him. If Thea pressed her about their father’s secret or threatened to reveal it, what lengths would their mother go to keep her quiet? 

“She wouldn’t have to physically harm her to keep her quiet,” Oliver pointed out. “Thea’s under 21. She’s only months out of rehab and has two possible suicide attempts in her past.” Thea’s history made her extra vulnerable. Money could buy a lot of broken principles. 

“You’re overreacting. Your mom is not going to have Thea committed.”

God, he wished he had even the smallest bit of faith left to believe that was true. Instead, he grimly set his jaw and bore down on the accelerator. 

According to the minutes passing on the dashboard, the drive to Queen Consolidated was quick, the evening rush hour hadn’t started yet, but every second ticked by at an excruciating pace. 

“Thea’s still not answering her phone,” Roy announced and then Felicity swore, adding to the good news.

“Dammit. I got Priya’s voicemail…who apparently off this afternoon at the pediatrician. I’ll try Jerry instead.”

“Who’s Priya? Who’s Jerry?” Tommy asked from the narrow bench seat behind them. Felicity had ended up in the front as usual with Roy and Tommy crammed together in the back of the extended cab. Back in the day, his crew would have ridden in the pick-up bed before trying to squash together in the back, but when they’d rushed out of the mansion, comfort and logistics took a back seat to speed.

“Moira’s executive assistants,” Felicity explained. “And I got Jerry’s voicemail too. Frack. Hey Jerry, this is Felicity, um, Felicity Smoak. I’ll explain later, but need a quick favor. Thea Queen is coming to see her mom and it would be so much better if she didn’t. Stall her and I’ll be there in five.” She disconnected the call. “With the security check and parking, it’s probably closer to 10.” She started dialing again. “I’ll call Diggle to expedite.”

Diggle was better about picking up his phone. Once they arrived, Oliver gratefully tossed his keys to someone Dig sent to take the truck. Then he and Felicity flashed their badges and rushed ahead while Diggle stayed back to sort Tommy and Roy through security. 

In the elevator, Felicity used a code to override the elevator and make it an express trip to the executive floor. The ride up was silent and tense. When the doors opened, he didn’t exactly run to his mother’s offices, but Oliver moved at a pace that pulled him well ahead of Felicity in her heels. Entering the quiet outer office, he didn’t see Thea waiting and his heart sank. 

As Felicity caught up with him, a head popped up from behind a desk, presumably Jerry. He looked from Oliver to Felicity, flustered to see either one of them. 

“Felicity! What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t get my message?”

“Um, no, I ah, I haven’t checked…”

“Never mind. Is Thea here with Moira?”

“Yes. I mean no.”

“Which is it Jerry? Where are they?”

Oliver had been so focused on getting to Moira’s office that he’d failed to notice it was sitting empty.

“Mrs. Queen wanted tea and to stretch her legs, so she was going all the way to the cafeteria instead of the break room. When Miss Queen arrived, I told her where her mother was going.”

“How long ago?” Oliver demanded.

“Um, a…like four or five minutes ago?”

They reversed course and briskly walked back the way they’d just come. 

The company’s cafeteria was on the 11th floor. Or rather was the 11th floor. Queen Consolidated having an employee cafeteria that sold meals at a subsidized cost was a throwback to a previous era, but his parents and the CEO’s before them believed the convenience kept up productivity.

Once they entered the cafeteria, they didn’t have to search to find his mother and sister. This late in the afternoon, most workers had already taken their afternoon break, but that didn’t stop the audience that remained from being riveted by what they were witnessing. 

“No. Just tell me! Did you know?” Thea implored their mother loudly in front of the beverage station. 

“Thea, you are hysterical. Please lower your voice.”

“You think I care who knows? We’d be better off if the whole world knew, at least then there would be no more secrets. This family can’t take anymore secrets.”

“Thea, I would be happy to have this discussion elsewhere when you can calmly explain what it is that you want to know.”

Thea had her back to them and his mom was focused on her daughter, so neither noticed them approaching before he spoke. 

“Thea,” Oliver said her name, making his sister jump. “Mom’s right. This isn’t the right time or place.”

Thea swung around with furious tears in her eyes. “And just when is the right time to find out your father is a murderer?”

A collective gasp went up from the cafeteria, audible even from the few staff and half dozen employees witnessing the scene. Behind Thea, all color drained from Moira’s face and she dropped the insulated cup in her hand. Some of the contents splashed the hem of her cream colored suit, but she was oblivious to it. 

“How did you…” she trailed off, unable to finish her question. And then, before anyone realized what was happening, Moira crumpled into the amber liquid splashed across the grey tiled floor. 

Another round of gasps raced through the echoing space before Oliver or anyone else unfroze. Someone shouted ‘she fainted!’ from the crowd. 

Finally able to move, he rushed to check on her.

Thea looked from their mother to where Oliver knelt. “I guess she knew.”

**** 

“No, I will not be going to the hospital and that is the end of it,” Moira Queen insisted, sitting up, looking and sounding herself again. Mostly. The darkened splotches on the front of her skirt and top, and her slightly disheveled hair remained blinking beacons that something was not right in the CEO’s world. 

At Felicity’s direction, she’d had Oliver scoop his mother up off the floor and brought into one of the private dining rooms. Roy and Tommy caught up to them in time to quickly move tables and chairs so Oliver could lay his mother on the long padded bench along the far wall. Diggle and his security team arrived shortly after with the paramedics. 

Moira’s stubborn refusal was met with a final shrug from the female EMT. “Ok, have it your way. You don’t seem injured from your fall, but if you experience any further signs of weakness or dizziness, you’ll want to go to the ER.”

“I will keep that in mind.” 

As the EMT’s began packing up, the other security personal that had shown up waited presumably to escort them down, but Diggle separated himself from his people. He beckoned Felicity to come speak with him. She hesitated, but then touched Moira’s shoulder, murmuring, “Be right back,” before she crossed to the other side of the room. Diggle kept his voice low.

“Is there something brewing in the Queen household I should be aware of?” His eyes darted meaningfully over to the window where Thea leaned into Roy while Tommy and Oliver stared out at Starling City. She wasn’t certain about Tommy, but Felicity was certain despite the distance Oliver kept since Moira awakened, he’d been carefully listening to every word exchanged between Moira and the EMT’s. 

“That Thea is dating Roy?” It was a cop out putting off the complicated explanation of what was happening and Diggle gave her the side eye she deserved. She sighed. “What you should know probably depends how much you want to know. Though even you can’t stop the rumors that are going to start flying fast.” Given their earlier audience, Thea’s accusation about Robert being a murder, and Moira’s too telling reaction, the news was likely would reach every ear before the work day was done. 

“I already heard the gossip.” He looked grim. “You can fill me in on the facts latter. Security at the mansion can’t get much tighter, but I’ll stop by this evening to look it over.” He looked at Oliver’s tense stance and Thea’s even more clear avoidance of her mother and asked, “Will anyone besides Moira be there?”

“She just fainted. I’ll make sure she’s not alone.” It wasn’t a complete answer, but it was too early to tell exactly where any of them would be once they talked to Moira and that was the one message Oliver had made clear after Moira awoke. 

Oliver had been at his mother’s side until she opened her eyes and when she’d come around, they’d locked eyes. He’d deliberately looked at Thea and then back at his mother before telling her in a flat tone, “We are going to talk.” 

Thea may have started the ball rolling prematurely, but Oliver wasn’t going anywhere until Moira gave them answers. 

Surprisingly, Moira seemed resigned to give them. She could have let the EMTs take her to the hospital or made other plans for escape, but instead, Moira was still there, shoulders back, stiffly erect, with her aristocratic hands folded on her stained lap, regally waiting like one of Henry the Eighth’s doomed wives. 

When the EMT’s were ready, security led them out. The tension level in the room spiked even with no one from the group on the other side of the room moving from their spot. John shook his head. “I think that’s my cue to go. I’ll be right outside in case I’m needed.”

Felicity nodded and watched him leave, shutting the double door firmly but quietly behind him. For a moment when still no one moved or broke the silence, she regretted not going with him. But even faced with a hostile audience, Moira remained a natural leader. She started things off.

“Thea, Robert loved you, always loved you from the day you were born. Don’t ever doubt that. Malcolm was a mistake, one I’d prayed to God you’d never find out about.”

Felicity watched four sets of confused eyes turn to Moira. Thea stepped out of Roy’s embrace, shaking her head. “What does any of that have to do with Dad covering up the death of a City Council member?”

Moira’s expression went completely blank and she fell silent for a moment, more than silent. A silence so complete Felicity wasn’t certain she was even breathing. Then she closed her eyes and tilted her head back as if she was looking up. Tears leaked out the corner of her eyes and she let out a deep breath. For a moment, she shook her head but didn’t say anything.

“Mom, I need answers,” Thea entreated. “Even before Dad died, it was closed doors and hushed whispers. Be a good girl and go play, Thea. This doesn’t concern you Thea. And it only got so much worse after Dad died. I didn’t just lose him. I lost my whole family. And for a long while, I lost myself. 

“But Oliver’s home now,” Thea gestured to her brother. “We’re finally all together again and I refuse to let the poisoned lies of the past take over again…even if they are meant to protect me. But you can’t protect me from the truth, Mom. I’ve seen the video. Now I need you to tell my why. Please. I can’t take it alone in the dark again. I can’t go back.”

Moira looked at her children and then at Tommy, Felicity and finally Roy. “You have all seen this video?” They nodded. “If I asked, would you tell me where you’d obtained it?” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Oliver told his mother as he took a protective stance at Thea’s side. Roy flanked her on her other side while Tommy remained half turned toward the window like he wasn’t certain how much he should be involved. Felicity understood the instinct. She stayed rooted to her spot across from Moira by the door; her plan was to remain an observer as much as possible.

“No, I thought not.” Moira smiled, though not at them. She dabbed at the wetness still lingering on her face, with her fingertips and then, once again, she closed her eyes. She took a controlled breath and when she opened her Nordic-blue eyes; her iron laced serenity had slid back into place. And yet, she nodded, seemingly having come to a decision. She spoke directly to Thea, her voice steady, though not devoid of emotion. 

“Yes, I knew, though not until many years later. The incident happened at the end of construction of a new plant in the Glades. The factory was small but important to the expansion of Queen Consolidated. We followed the rules. All the permits were submitted and received approval. Plans went ahead. That should have been the end of it, but in the Glades, government worked differently than in the rest of Starling City.” Moira continued. 

“Days before the plant was ready to open, Councilman Goodman called and asked Robert to meet him at the new facility. Once there, he told him there was about to be a problem with the permits. One that for a price, need never happen.”

“He wanted a bribe.” Oliver guessed. 

“Yes. Said it was the cost of doing business in the Glades. Robert refused, they argued, and there was an accident.”

“If it was an accident,” Thea asked, “why would Dad cover it up?”

“Robert panicked. Under the circumstances, he wasn’t certain he’d be believed. He didn’t want to risk being taken from you or Oliver. I don’t condone his choice, but I understand. Goodman was dead. Nothing could change that, and it was Goodman’s corruption that brought his death.” Moira folded her hands in front of her again.

“Now you know. What do you plan on doing with the information?”

Felicity looked to Oliver and Thea. Roy and Tommy were doing the same. They would let it be a Queen family decision. Oliver rubbed a hand over his mouth and face, shaking his head; the answer not easily coming. Truth was, what to do with Robert Queen’s damning video was only the tip of the iceberg. But for Thea, the choice was easy.

“We release it to the public. Excise the poison of the past.”

Moira’s calm didn’t falter, but her expression tightened. “It’s not as simple as that.”

“Why not?” Thea asked. She walked in her mother’s direction, with Oliver and Roy shadowing her. “The truth can’t hurt dad anymore and his reputation doesn’t even have to suffer, not when we explain what really happened.”

Moira rose to her feet shaking her head. “Opening up Queen Consolidated to litigation or worse is too great a risk.”

Oliver made a scoffing sound. “Don’t you mean yourself? It’s you you’re worried about,” he accused. “Once you found out the truth, Dad stopped being the only one covering up Goodman’s murder.”

Concern flashed over Thea’s face, but she’d warmed up to her idea and wasn’t ready to give it up. “Mom wouldn’t have to say she ever knew.” She turned to Felicity. “Couldn’t you take the video and have it along with the facts about what happened sent anonymously to Channel 52 like those photographs of the Gambit?”

Before she was forced to respond, Moira, agitated, stepped between them and dismissed the plan.

“That is not a good idea. Thea, you don’t know what you would be opening up.”

“But Mom, we do know. Tommy’s dad was holding it over Dad’s head. It’s ok, we know about the list.”

“I assure you, it’s not ok.” Emotion shook her voice and deep, worried, frown lines creased her forehead. “We should not even be discussing it.” Her gaze flittered to Thea’s new boyfriend and turned calculating. “Especially outside of family.” 

Thea was dismissive of her mom’s unwelcoming posture. “Relax. Roy knows everything I know. Oliver trusts him and I trust him. There are no outsiders here. I mean, Tommy is family and God, Felicity knows more about all of this than anyone.” Moira’s frown deepened and then she made a quick, dismissive gesture. 

“She may think she knows, but she can’t possibly.”

“It is true. Felicity has been digging for years like a secret agent. She’s the one that found Dad’s other videos too. Like last year.” Moira’s stunned silence only spurred Thea on. “How do you think Felicity convinced Oliver to come home in the first place? She brought him home to help her expose the truth.”

Felicity groaned internally. She knew Thea didn’t intend it that way, but she practically felt the wheels of the bus running over her back. She braced herself for Moira’s reaction as she slowly turned to look at her. She wasn’t’ prepared when it came. 

“You treacherous, deceitful whore!”

“Mother!”

“Hey!” 

Felicity blanched. She heard Thea and Oliver’s protests as from a distance, momentarily too stunned to react. She was well versed in Moira Queen’s icy blasts or her cold, subtle digs but there was nothing subtle about the venom turned her direction. And almost worse than the fury or cutting words, was the genuine pain of betrayal she read in Moira’s trembling mouth and hurt eyes. 

“This is how you repay me? I brought you into my home.” 

Guilt swamped her and momentarily choked off any defense. She _had_ lied, covered up, and continued her digging for years. And she’d used her close connection to the Queens to do it. She’d never meant to harm Moira, but as even as evidence seemed to pile up, she’d still refused to stop looking for the truth. If the situation was reversed, she’d feel betrayed as well. But Moira’s words crossed a line—even if she had been sleeping with the woman’s son under her own roof. Felicity was just finding her voice when Oliver was there between her and Moira. 

“You do not speak to Felicity like that,” he thundered. “Not now, not ever.” 

“She’s been plotting this whole time and now she’s turned you against me.” Moira’s voice shook from anguish and fury. Oliver reacted by turning away from his mother for a moment, running his hands to the top of his head and gripping his hair in anger and frustration. Felicity believed in fighting her own battles, but she suddenly realized that right now, this wasn’t really about her.

Oliver took a minute to get his anger under control and when he turned back to Moira, his voice was deadly soft. 

“As usual, you’ve got it wrong,” Oliver said. “Felicity has been your biggest defender. The only one that’s turned me against you is you. The games you play. The lies you tell. And since I got back, I tried to play them as well. At least now we can all stop pretending. We know the truth. That’s all Felicity has done, is look for the truth.”

“And just what supposedly is the truth?”

“I can see how you might be confused; we haven’t had a lot of it in our family.”

“Really, Oliver, if all you are going to do is pick over the past—”

“Everything we are is because of our past. Even the doubts you managed to sow in the news.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The leaked pictures of the Gambit, Mother. We both know they are real. Walter saw the salvaged Gambit in person. So did the former head of QC’s security right before he met with a fatal accident and the wreckage vanished. The truth is out. The Queen’s Gambit was sabotaged just like everyone guessed. Just like Carina Welrose claimed. All of it except for the part where I was responsible.”

Moira flattened her lips. “Haven’t we already had this conversation?”

“This isn’t about what everyone else thought. This is about the self-destructive lie you sent me away believing.”

“You don’t understand.” 

“You’re right. I don’t. My God! You are my mother!” he cried. The words came torn from his soul. “My father was murdered, but you made me believe I was the reason he was dead.”

Moira flinched but didn’t interrupt. Felicity doubted he would have stopped to listen anyway. 

“I spent years coming to terms with the selfish mistakes I made that I thought led to Dad’s death. I was ready to live with that, but I never, not for one moment, stopped agonizing over the kind of monster I must be for my own mother to think I could have killed my father. I cut Thea out of my life because I thought I was toxic. I wasn’t there when she needed me because you convinced me I was a disease that needed to be quarantined, but that’s not me, Mother, that’s you.”

Moira took the hit silently, but Thea called his name, shocked he’d say such a thing. He turned to her briefly.

“I’m sorry Thea. For so many things. Despite everything, I didn’t want to believe Mom was this person. Even when I learned about the bodies she left in her wake, I wanted to believe there was some other explanation.”

“I thought”—Thea sent a quick, pitying glance toward a stoic Tommy—“we’d decided Malcolm was the one behind everything.”

“Malcolm Merlyn wasn’t acting alone. He’s dead, but even from beyond the grave his plans were going forward with Mom making it happen. But I won’t let it happen.” He shifted back to their mother. “I won’t let you wreak havoc on this city like you did on this family.” 

“This dramatic exaggeration is becoming tiring. What are you raving about now?” 

“The Markov Devices, Mother. The earthquake machines you hid in Tommy’s basement.”

Moira paled. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened and closed without any words coming out. Oliver went on.

“I told you, we know the truth. The merger with Merlyn Global is weeks away and you’ll finally be ready to finish what you started with Malcolm.”

“No. No.” Moira repeatedly shook her head but whether it was in protest of innocence or denial of the truth, Felicity couldn’t tell. Oliver relentlessly spelled it all out. 

“Eight years ago, Malcolm showed Dad his plans for the Glades. He told him about the devices he was going to build and the earthquakes that would level that part of town so he could buy it up and rebuild to his specifications. But, no, Dad wouldn’t play along. Not even under threat of jail. And for that, he had to die. And you, Mom.” Oliver paused and smiled, making a scoffing sound. It wasn’t a pleasant sight. 

“You became Malcolm’s partner, buying into his dream, purchasing as many properties in the Glades as you could. It almost fell apart when Malcolm finally crossed someone he shouldn’t have and the Triad took him down. But you bided your time and now in a few weeks, you’ll control nearly half the Glade’s properties you need. You’re looking at potentially billions in profit once you obtain the rest. The thousands of lives you’ll need to sacrifice to get it mean nothing to you. Did Dad mean nothing as well? Did you even hesitate before having him killed?” 

“No!” Moira cried out. “I would never hurt Robert. It was Malcolm. I didn’t want any of it.” 

“I don’t believe you. You were his partner. You made his problems go away.”

“I had nothing to do with the ‘accidents’ and what I did, he made me do. I didn’t have a choice.”

“More lies. Malcolm Merlyn blackmailed everyone on the list. But your name, your name isn’t on the list. He didn’t have blackmail material on you, but he didn’t need any, did he?”

“No. I mean yes. No, it’s not what you think.” Moira was rattled in a way Felicity hadn’t seen since the night Thea’s car crashed. Her cool air of detachment was stripped away. 

“Can’t keep track of your own lies, Mother? Yes or no. For once in your life just tell the truth.”

“You want the truth?” Moira asked softly, her voice quivering with emotion. She stood; her spine slowly turned into a ramrod. “You are right. I helped Malcolm with his vision for a new Glades.” Moira swept her gaze through the room to include everyone in her confession. “I acquired properties. Brought others into the fold. Steered Queen Consolidated in the direction needed. Delivered threats to those he wanted kept in line. Even to Walter. Even though it cost me the second chance at love I never expected to find. 

“I was never on Malcolm’s list because he never needed a secret file to make me do what he wanted. All he needed to do was deliver one message loud and clear.” A smirking sneer transformed her expression. “_What a shame it would be if something was to happen to Oliver or Thea like something happened to Robert._ Miraculous word that my son was still alive had just reached me, so God help me, yes, yes, I agreed to do whatever that monster asked. And then I bided my time because the someone Malcolm Merlyn should _never_ have crossed was me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all. First, repeated thanks and appreciation to all of you that have liked and commented on this story. I thrill every time I see I have any feedback. 
> 
> In particular to this post, I would dearly love to get your thoughts on Moira's "big" confession. We've come to the part of the story where some of the revelations really were only revelations to the characters rather than to we that have already watched Arrow. I'm hoping that the journey to get there in this story and how the characters react will be the driving force of interest even when the reveals aren't particularly exciting. 
> 
> On a kind of parallel note, some of you might have realized that when Thea announced she'd found out her father was a murderer, Moira thought Thea found out that Malcolm was her biological father, hence her dramatic reaction. 
> 
> I must confess, Moira gets to keep that secret in this story. Since she's still CEO and not running for Mayor, Moira doesn't have a reason to send up the red flag that Felicity on the show caught that led her to figuring out the truth. But I couldn't resist another nod to the truth. 
> 
> I imagine down the road-post the time period this story covers- they *might* find out about Thea's parentage, just as Oliver would certainly discover his son. I'm not going to write it, but my headcanon for this AU is Samantha really gets in that car crash that they claimed took her life and on her death, the truth comes out, bringing William permanently into Oliver and Felicity's life. Sorry Samantha, lol. :D


	30. Chapter 30

Oliver swung the axe, splitting the log into two pieces. His aim was off leaving one part still awkwardly large. He repositioned the larger section, stepped back and again brought down the heavy blade. It hit the wood with a loud, satisfying thwack straight down the middle. He tossed the firewood onto the growing stack and started the process all over again. His shoulders ached, his muscles burned, sweat dripped into his eyes, and a kiss of a sunburn stung his bare chest. He probably had new calluses on the palm of his hands. If Diggle hadn’t thrown a pair of work gloves at him when he started, he probably would have a hand full of blisters. 

He’d been at the manual labor for hours—time was blurring—but he still felt the same mix of confusion, pain, anger, pride and remorse. All of them were reeling from his mom’s revelations. None of them knew exactly what to do with them. Not her confirmation of what Malcolm planned for those living in the Glades, nor her veiled confession of his murder. 

_ “…_ _the someone Malcolm Merlyn should **never **have crossed was **me**_ _.” _

A chill went down his spine just like the first time. He’d heard the truth in his mom’s confession as clearly as if she’d rung a bell. He wasn’t ready to examine all the implications of what it meant, but once again, everything he thought he knew shifted.

Still, after more than eight years, it was hard to let go of the past.

“You disowned me,” he’d said to his mom in the cafeteria after she dropped her revelation. It hadn’t been the first time he’d said it, but this time, instead of being an accusation, it became a plea for his mother to explain. And for the first time, she did. 

As Oliver set up another log to split, he replayed what happened for the hundredth time.

Tears pooled in Moira’s eyes. She reached out to caress the side of his face. “Oh, my sweet boy.” She shook her head sorrowfully. “I never wanted you to leave. It was the only way.”

“Why?” Felicity asked, suddenly there at his side. It was the first word she’d said since the vile things that spilled out of his mother’s mouth. His mother looked pained. Remorse? He wasn’t certain, but she answered Felicity’s question.

“Oliver was in grave danger. Thea’s youth protected her, but Malcolm wanted more than just _my_ compliance.” A faraway look blurred her gaze. “As a teen and through college, Oliver could be terribly careless, but there was always such kindness in his heart.” She turned to Oliver again. “You wouldn’t have done what Malcolm would have asked any more than your father. I’d seen what would happen if you defied him. I couldn’t take that risk.”

His mother hadn’t exiled him believing he murdered his father, nor had she coldly let him take the blame for her crime. She’d protected him. He was still adjusting to the truth and the idea of living his life without the weight of self-condemnation influencing every choice. 

“What was Dad planning?” Thea asked. “When he got to China?” 

For a time, while his mother had been confessing, Oliver forgot Thea, Roy and Tommy were there with him in the private dining room. Thea had looked like he’d felt, like he still felt, shocked but also hopeful. Tommy had been hard to read. He barely spoke until the end, remaining by the window, staring down at Starling City like he was bored by the whole confession or wishing he hadn’t heard a word. Roy stayed glued to Thea’s side. Oliver knew the kind of loyalty Roy could give and somehow Thea already had it. 

How the hell had that relationship sprung up so fast? 

Oliver cleaved another piece of wood in half and then hefted one of the few logs remaining to be turned into firewood into place. 

Maybe he should be asking himself that very question, but it felt different with Felicity. It was different. They were partners in this. He knew who she was even if he didn’t know all her history and she definitely knew more about his life and family than just about anyone. And despite the venom his mother turned on her, Felicity hadn’t run. Hadn’t even cut Moira down to size like he was sure she wanted to.

Not that he’d given her much of an opening.

Once Oliver started the confrontation, he hadn’t been able to stop. He decided it must be a family trait, since at first it seemed once his mom began her confession, she’d planned to keep right on talking. It kept playing like a movie in his head. 

“Robert and I came up with a plan. If we could preemptively purchase certain key properties, Malcolm wouldn’t be able to implement his vision and thus would have no reason to destroy the Glades. The trip to China was about securing the investor we needed, but we were horribly naïve to think Malcolm would take any chances after Robert raised objections. 

“After Robert was killed, I stayed silent. I spent years trying to gain Malcolm’s trust so I could find proof to bring to the authorities. But he was extremely careful. It would have been my word against his.”

“What about the earthquake devices he was building?”

Moira shook her head. “Merlyn Global was a silent partner. If the Markov devices had been exposed, it was Unidac and QC that would take responsibility.”

“Speaking of the elephants in Tommy’s basement, why there?” Thea asked. “Why stash them underground in the Glades if you had no plans to finish the plans? Why the takeover of Merlyn Global?”

“Absorbing Merlyn Global into Queen Consolidated makes business sense. In addition, the next phases of revitalization in the Glades will benefit from properties previously under MG control.”

“And the devices? Why place them exactly where they needed to be?”

“Verdant is in the Glades, but no, it was never a target location for launching the devices. Malcolm had pinpointed two key locations for maximum results, Verdant is merely a place to hide them.”

“The old subway tunnels,” Roy said, speaking for the first time.

Thea cocked her head. “What about them?”

“That symbol I recognized on the box, that’s where I’d seen it. They shut the subway down in the Glades years before left town but I used to take it every day. The circle with the lines, that’s the section on the map of subway tunnels in the Glades.” He glanced at Moira. “That’s where the machines were going to go. Even deeper under the Glades than Verdant’s basement.”

Moira’s eyebrows went up. “You are correct Mister Harper. I’ve surprised anyone was able to make the connection.”

“Why did you move the Markov devices from deep storage?” Felicity asked.

“Even with the project shuttered, there were too many rumors out there. Too many interested parties. I wanted them forgotten and since putting them in storage wasn’t accomplishing that, I moved them to a place they could not be so easily found.”

“Why not destroyed?” Oliver asked. Felicity answered that one.

“It’s not QC policy to destroy even failed projects. ‘Failure is the ladder to success,’” she quoted and pointed to a poster decorating the private dining room. Flashes of memory had Oliver recalling similar posters at QC all his life. “If avoiding scrutiny was the goal, deep storage probably was the only official option.”

“Yes,” his mother agreed. “I needed time to purge files and make sure the minds behind the project couldn’t restart their research.”

“Mother, you didn’t!” Thea exclaimed.

“Have them killed? Of course not. I merely imparted to them the _utmost_ necessity of putting as much distance between them and their work at Unidac.”

“But you did have Dad murdered,” Tommy stated, suddenly no longer the observer. He’d been rolling with some pretty horrible revelations about his father for the past week and he’d reached his limit. He pushed away from the window, turning toward them but not meeting anyone’s eyes.

“I have to go. I can’t…” He shook his head and made to leave. 

“Tommy,” Moira began as he rushed past her, “if there had been any other way—”

He stopped and turned, cutting her off.

“No. I heard. I have the blood of a madman running in my veins.” A parody of his usual smile appeared briefly as he backed the remaining distance to the door. “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything.” He shrugged. “Who’d believe me anyway?” 

*** 

Oliver made his final swing of the axe, leaving the log symmetrically hewn through. He tossed the pieces on the pile. Then he leaned the wooden handle of the blade against the stack, peeled off his gloves and set them beside it. It wasn’t dark out yet but the setting sun stretched the shadows into comical proportions. The wicked blade in relief looked large enough for Paul Bunyan to swing.

Oliver surveyed what he’d finished. The kindling was enough to last any normal household a year, but in a couple months, every room the occupants of the Queen Mansion entered would have its hearth blazing even if it was only passed through on their way to another room. There’d be another shipment delivered tomorrow if he or Paul Bunyan needed to vent their frustration more.

He wasn’t sure any amount of physical labor would quiet his current unsettled feelings. He picked up the shirt he’d discarded, putting it on as he walked across the lawn toward the house. Unsettled or not, he was hungry and in Moira Queen’s domain that meant showering and at least changing into a fresh t-shirt. 

When he saw the conservatory's glass walls, before he realized what he was doing, his feet changed trajectory. And when he realized where he was going, he walked a little bit faster.

He entered the building and followed the path through the greenery until it opened up to the pool. As anticipated, he found Felicity at her computer sitting reclined on a lounge with one of her knees bent to balance her laptop on. Her bright head popped up the moment he stepped on the pool deck. She smiled at him. His restlessness began to fade.

He raised his hand casually. “Hey. Find anything?”

She answered while working a kink out in her neck. “A great deal. And nothing. You’d think the two couldn’t co-exist. Hopefully, Thea is doing better with your mother. It’s been hours.”

When Tommy left, mood for confession went with him. Moira remarked on the lateness of the day and insisted on returning to her office to handle a few pressing matters before her departure, telling them all she would see them back at the mansion. Her eyes had lingered especially long on Felicity. It wasn’t an apology and wasn’t enough, but it was enough for now to leave some things at status quo. 

“Speaking of my mother, when she gets home, I’ll talk to her when about what she said to you. She needs to make things right.”

“No, don’t. I appreciate the offer, but promise me you’ll stay out of it. Don’t say anything, or threaten anything. Don’t let it affect your relationship.”

“Felicity, I can’t—”

“Please. I need this thing between me and your mom to play out independently. I need to know that anything that comes from Moira is coming solely from her and not to save her relationship with you.” She shrugged ruefully. “I thought Moira and I were…if not friends, something more than someone she paid. Maybe I was always naïve about that. Maybe I’ve never been anything but a dutiful employee. I know I’ve let her get away with behavior I would never have tolerated from anyone else. But I need to find out. So please, promise me.” 

He sighed, but nodded. “I promise.” He changed the subject. “Any updates on Tommy?” 

None of them had liked the idea of Tommy on his own in his state of mind, but he’d been clear on needing a break from all of it and all of them. It wasn’t hard to understand that. The ride back from Queen Consolidated had been a silent one with so much to sort through and absorb. Once safe behind the gates, he’d gone to brood in his own way and Felicity in hers. 

“Thea texted Roy’s there, but he’s keeping his distance while Tommy processes.” A beeping noise went off on Felicity’s laptop.

“Something important?”

“No, just something that needs tweaking. Give me a minute.”

Oliver nodded and, then to give her some space, walked the short distance to the kitchen to get some water. As he downed a bottle, he circled back to the disquieting point Tommy made before he’d left. 

Oliver believed his mother was finally telling the truth, but Tommy was right, not much of what she said could be proved which led to the next question. What were they planning to do with the truth? His mother arranged a hit on Malcom Merlyn. Circumstantial evidence said his murder saved thousands of lives, but it remained murder. Or was it justice? The residents of the Glades may have been spared but others hadn’t been so lucky.

If his mother was to be believed, she hadn’t been involved in the “accidents” that befell any of Malcolm’s loose ends. But someone was responsible. 

Felicity was finishing up as he returned. He spoke his thoughts aloud.

“The more I think about it,” he said, “the more I think you are right.”

“That’s always music to my ears. What about?”

“There are too many coincidences around Patel’s death that lead back to Malcolm. There has to be some clue about who we are looking for in Malcolm’s files.”

She sighed. “My gut agrees but there’s so much to look through and now that we agree it’s not your mom, we’re back at square one and um,” she glanced up nervously, “I heard from Jean Loring.” 

From the look on Felicity’s face, her lawyer hadn’t delivered good news. He sat on the end of the lounge and took her hand. “What did she have to say?”

“She has a contact in the state’s pathology lab. They gave her an early look at the results for the blood stains in my car. No surprise, it’s a match to Patel.”

“How much time?”

“Before the police swoop in and arrest me? Caught a break there. The lab results won’t be uploaded to the Starling City Police Department’s computer system until tomorrow morning. So I have approximately 12 hours left to come up with a miracle.”

“The charge won’t stick. I’m your alibi.”

"Mhm.” She made a noncommittal sound. “The police have made it clear they are pretty confident they can discredit your testimony. In other good news, Jean thinks there’s a 50/50 chance I’ll get bail and if not, well, apparently the county jail has kosher options.” She gave him a wain smile as her attempt at humor failed. Oliver took her laptop, closed it, set it on the chair next to them, and then he pulled Felicity across his lap into a hug. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, leaned into him, and took a ragged breath. He stroked her back. 

“We’re going to figure this out. It’s going to be ok.”

“Promise?” she asked, resting her head on his shoulder. 

“If worse comes to worse, I know this place a few hours north where we could fall off the face of the earth.” He was only half kidding.

She sighed. “I’m really bad at yoga. Or at least I think I would be. Wildcat’s Gym doesn’t offer it and I can’t remember if I ever made it to a class when I was at MIT. Definitely didn’t go after my Goth phase.”

He blinked for a second. Goth phase? But that was something to unpack another time. 

“I seem to remember you demonstrating your flexibility just the other morning. At one point, there was a full split happening.” 

“I felt it later.”

“That doesn’t change how much you enjoyed yourself in the meantime if the running commentary of ‘Oh God oh God’ meant anything. I don’t think it’s the stretching you’d have to worry about; it’s the silent meditation.” 

She snickered into his shoulder. “I bet Nanda Parbat is also one of those resorts that takes pride in snatching away phones, computers and all the rest of what makes life worth living.”

“Guilty.”

“I think I’d rather go to prison.”


	31. Chapter 31

“Here, catch,” Thea said while tossing a plump, white paper bag. Felicity barely had time to look before Oliver snatched it out the air despite them being caught unaware and her still curled up in his lap. The heavenly scent of Big Belly Burger’s finest wafted up and her stomach growled loudly. She was reminded she’d never gotten around to eating lunch. 

“Thea, you are an angel,” Felicity said slipping from her cozy position, taking the bag and sitting back next to Oliver so she could unpacked it. 

“I made Mom get take out. She didn’t even fight me on it.”

“Where’s she now?” Felicity asked, snagging a delightfully salty and soggy fry and popping it in her mouth. 

“Went upstairs. Said she needed to rest.” At Oliver’s frown, Thea shook her head. “I don’t think she’s actually tired, just avoiding more questions.” 

Felicity passed the larger burger to Oliver before unwrapping hers. “Did you find out anything?” 

“Not a lot. I think I answered as many questions as I asked. Probably more. She knew about the intruder at Merlyn Global and brought up the break in at the Applied Science Building again. I think she has her suspicions.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Oliver dismissed any need for worry. “Anything else?”

“I tried to find out who else was involved in Malcolm’s plan. The Undertaking, that’s what they all called it. Creepy, right?”

“Did she give you any names?”

“She mentioned the list and said everyone was involved on some level. Not everyone knew the specifics of the plan but loads more than I would have guessed. It’s possible George Patel could have picked up rumors about the earthquake device from one of them, but yeah, Mom agreed it’s way more likely his father passed on the information somehow.

“You see,” Thea went on to explain, “Warren Patel was supposed to be following Malcolm’s plan—which was letting QC get the winning bid on Unidac— but Warren decided to try and rig the system by killing not just Queen Consolidated’s competition, but QC’s CEO as well so that Patel’s company would be the only one left. Then he’d buy up Unidac and after he gave Malcolm the Markov devices that he wanted, Warren could keep making a mint selling more of the devices on the black-market.”

“Double crossing Malcolm. No wonder he ended up dead.”

“Oh, about that. Mom said Warren Patel being weirdly killed by an arrow, get this, that was all Malcolm’s handiwork. He told her he ‘handled’ the problem himself.”

Oliver’s forehead furrowed. “Felicity, was Warren Patel the only victim killed by an arrow?”

Felicity shook her head while she finished swallowing a large bite of burger. 

“No, but he was the highest profile victim. According to the SCPD database, during the five years prior to Malcolm’s death, half a dozen people died by arrow. A few more had strange puncture wounds the forensic people labeled likely wounds from removing some kind of projectile, most likely a modern hunting arrow. It was happening in the Glades to the kind of people that the police don’t worry too much about so I’m not sure how much effort went into closing cases.”

“But other deaths you attributed to Malcolm, they showed up as accidents, right?”

“Even the Gambit would have gone down officially as an accident if Moira hadn’t recovered the ship. But yeah, hit and runs, faulty wiring, muggings. That kind of thing. What are you thinking?”

“Just that if when Malcolm permanently took care of his problems, he used arrows, it stands to reason the other method of solving his problems must have belonged to someone else working for him.”

Thea plucked a fry from Oliver’s pack and nodded. “Yeah, Mom brought up someone Malcolm used to ‘facilitate permanent results’ since there were lines she wasn’t willing to cross. Got the impression he never pushed her on that because he liked having a professional in his pocket.”

“Mom give you a name?”

“No. She said she never even saw them. Merlyn would just say he’d have his fixer handle it.”

Felicity sighed, “I suppose a name would have been too much to hope.”

“Sorry. I don’t know if it helps, but Mom was pretty sure Carina Welrose, that trigger happy harpy, got her photos from that person, Malcolm’s fixer. According to Mom, after Walter found the warehouse, Malcolm definitely had the Gambit destroyed. The pictures sent to the news stations were from before. Mom recognized them as ones she’d taken on a digital camera. She’d kept it and the memory stick hidden in what was left of the Gambit where she thought it was safe. Figured only the person that rerouted the contents of the emptied warehouse could have found them.”

“Were the pictures sent to channel 52 the same ones Carina said she’d received?” Oliver asked.

“They were,” Felicity answered, “the police found matching digital files on the computer in Carina’s apartment.” 

“Did the police ever get Carina to say who was feeding her information?” Thea asked.

“No names. But she bragged that she’d met with them at least a couple times and they handed off the files in person.”

“Do we believe her? I mean, why would someone expose themselves like that when they could just send Carina proof in an anonymous email or envelope like they did with the news station?”

“I’m not sure. They way Carina told the police, the meeting in person was proof she could trust them. Maybe they thought as long as Carina didn’t know who they were, it didn’t matter? Maybe they assumed they could always remove Carina if she became a problem. Or maybe she’s making it up to seem more important. The police wanted her to work with a sketch artist so they could run facial recognition software but she refused and said she only brought them up to prove there were others that knew the truth.”

“Do I want to know how you know any of this?” Thea asked. Felicity smiled.

“Let’s just say I have my ways.”

“If Carina isn’t lying,” Oliver began, redirecting before Thea asked more questions, “and all of this is connected, then it is possible Carina Welrose could identify Patel’s real killer.” 

“And,” Felicity added, “if she can, she’s a loose end. Malcolm’s fixer had a lot of practice snipping those off.”

“Maybe,” Oliver suggested, “we can use that to our advantage.”

“What are you thinking?”

“Carina came after me and the ones I care about because she blames us for her father’s death. I can’t see Carina protecting her contact if she knew they were actually the one behind her father’s death. And that she’s probably their next target.”

“The problem,” Felicity pointed out, “is proving it. I have the imbedded Meta data from the photo’s digital files and it tracks with Moira’s time line, but that’s not exactly proof that Malcolm Merlyn kept someone on staff to make problems go away. And not to be a negative Nelly, even just laying out our theory puts your Mom in the middle.”

Thea crossed her arms. “She already is in the middle. And the truth, well, most of it, should get out.”

“Are you sure?” Felicity asked.

“I don’t want Mom to go to jail for something she didn’t have a choice in doing, but otherwise, yeah.”

Oliver looked at his sister. “You believe her?”

“I do. And I think you do too, Ollie. I’m still wrapping my head around…how things ended, but I’m not sure I can judge her when the alternative was thousands of people dying.”

“There should have been another way, Thea,” Oliver said softly.

“Maybe. Or maybe having Malcolm killed was the only way to end it. We weren’t there. Did you know even after he died, some in on the plan wanted to go through with it? Not everyone was blackmailed into it. Some were there for the money Merlyn promised they could make afterwards. How sick is that?”

“So he used both the carrot and the stick.”

“Yeah and they were not the kind of people you disappoint, so Mom had to convince them she could make them the money Malcolm promised without leveling the Glades first. And the only way she could get them to give her that chance was leaving Plan A on the table in case she failed. That’s the real reason she didn’t destroy the earthquake devices. They would have killed her if they thought their back up plan to get their money was gone.”

“Is she still getting pressure?”

“She’d really be in trouble if any ever figured out she’s the one that stopped Malcolm’s plan in the first place, but I guess the worst one breathing down her neck about it, Frank Bertinelli, got into major legal troubles in the last couple years—he’s basically a mobster. So with him off the table, Mom risked at least hiding the Markov devices. She only kept them intact incase the charges didn’t stick and she had to produce them in one piece again.”

“Bertinelli?” Felicity echoed, stunned. Frank Bertinelli had been on the list she’d gotten from Walter the first time around. Details of his crime syndicate had been the first “tip” she and Diggle turned over to the Fed’s. Oliver caught her recognition.

“One of yours?”

She nodded. Thea frowned.

“What are you talking about?” she asked Oliver.

“I’ll explain later. I’m guessing the charges stuck.”

“What? Oh. Yeah. The daughter and her husband are still trying to salvage the legitimate side of his business, but she’s totally disavowed her dad and even turned over more dirt they found. And,” Thea continued, “I guess one corrupt domino toppled another because Bertinelli wasn’t the only one to go down on the list. Still, a lot of people are pushing for a bigger profit margin before they agree to the second stage of the Queen Foundation Initiative.”

“Do you have a point you are trying to make?”

“I already told you, I don’t want Mom to go to jail or get killed. Malcolm’s plan to use the earthquake devices should go public to make sure no one else thinks to try something like that, but why not let the police keep thinking the Chinese Triade killed Malcolm all on their own? Mom’s name never came up when the FBI dismantled them in Starling. Felicity, you can leave Mom out of it, can’t you, when you connect the other dots to prove to Carina she should turn on her contact?”

“Oliver?” Felicity let him decide. 

“We’ll have to talk to Tommy before we make any final decisions, but…I think…I think I can live with that. Like Tommy said, we can’t prove Mom was behind it anyway.”

“We also can’t prove most of the dots I’m going to try and connect for Carina,” Felicity pointed out, but any plan was better than no plan. “Plus, even though Carina wanted to kill me, we have to try and warn her she’s in danger. Maybe self-preservation will push her to do the right thing.” 

Felicity grabbed her cell and dialed her lawyer. Their best chance at success would be if it came from official channels. Explaining everything—minus Moira’s deadly choice—took a while, but finally, Jean, willing to try a Hail Mary, agreed to reach out to Carina’s lawyers. 

After that, there wasn’t much they could do but wait. They finished their dinner and then checked in again with Roy about Tommy. He hadn’t run Roy off yet, so at least he wasn’t sitting alone in a closed club drinking.

Felicity had been ready to get back to her searches, but Oliver and Thea ganged up on her and insisted she set it aside for now. It was hard to consider with time running out, but she already had an algorithm set to better index and cross reference the information in the files. Until that was done, any search she did was like turning over random leaves in a forest and expecting to find a log cabin. She was too wired to nap and Thea was looking for company so jumping Oliver wasn’t on the table.

“Fine, one movie, but let me go change first. If I’m going to veg in front of the TV, I’m going to do it in something more comfortable.”

“I’ll walk with you,” Oliver offered. He would so have been up to being jumped. 

“Oh no you don’t or neither of you will come back down.” Thea was adamant. “You, Big Brother, can help me get snacks and pick out a movie. Felicity, we’ll meet you in the family room.” 

“Oh, bring ice cream!” 

Felicity parted ways with them in the kitchen after pointing out and claiming the pint of Rocky Road. The flavor seemed fitting given what her life was like right now and she was in need of a higher dose of chocolate than her Mint Chip could provide. From the kitchen, she took the back stairs to the room she’d been sharing with Oliver the last few days. 

It was strange how easy that transition had happened. Still, it wasn’t like if they were living together even if they kind of were. Maid service, laundry, and even a cook. No, it wasn’t real life, more like being on vacation if vacation included imminent arrest for murder. 

She pushed her worries out of her mind for now. Thea was right, she needed a break and two hours was about how long it was going to take her program. 

She changed out of the coral colored dress, setting it aside to go to the cleaners and looked in the drawer for something comfy to wear. She’d had several cozy sweat sets at home before the clean-up crew had bagged the torn material and hauled it off to the dump, but here, her options were limited. She ended up putting on yoga pants and a t-shirt for the moment. She left her room and slipped across the hallway to Oliver’s old room to see if he had a sweatshirt that hadn’t yet made its way to “their” room. 

Like it was often the practice by the staff, a dim light had been left on which was enough for her to find a likely looking dresser. She was in the process of pulling the navy blue sweatshirt over her head when Moira’s voice let her know she wasn’t alone.

“Whiteman was the second college Oliver dropped out of.”

Felicity was proud she didn’t jump. Externally, at least. Internally, everything leapt to high alert.

She finished tugging the oversized garment into place, straightened her glasses, and then honed in on where the voice came from. In the dim light, she spotted Moira across the room, curled on the loveseat holding against her chest a framed picture turned outward of Oliver and his father sharing a smile. Moira had also changed out of her business attire; she wore one of her signature, silken robes in a silvery pewter tone. She kept speaking.

“One of the top-fifty, liberal-arts colleges in the country. Active campus life. Strong economics program. All nestled in a small town close enough to drive home for holidays. I thought this time the college was the right fit. It took a considerable donation to the Computer Resource Center to facilitate his acceptance immediately that spring of his freshman year. Oliver completed just enough coursework to be allowed back the following fall. He dropped out of Whiteman halfway through that semester. Next, it was—”

Felicity interrupted. “I’m not going to stand here and listen to you reminisce like nothing happened. If you have something to say to me about what you said, I’ll listen. Otherwise, save your breath.” She waited for Moira to say something, but she was met only with silence. Disgusted, she walked out, firmly closing the door behind her. 

Was she really expecting an apology? To be begged for forgiveness? 

Honestly? 

She stopped before the stairs, her shoulders sagging. No. And that was what hurt more than Moira’s vicious words, because she needed an apology—even an emotionally stunted Moira Queen version couched in brisk demands and abrupt subject changes—otherwise she couldn’t imagine continuing their relationship. 

Moira mattered to her and it injured her to think she mattered so little to her. She didn’t believe she did, but enough for Moira to let go of her stubborn pride? 

It probably was for the best that her relationship with Oliver came with an expiration date. Like she’d done too many times lately, Felicity pushed the pang that thought caused aside and kept moving forward. 

When she joined Oliver and Thea in the family room, Oliver noticed something was off and asked her if she was ok, but she was tired of the whole subject and told him she didn’t want to talk about it. He frowned but let it go. 

They settled down to watch one of the newer Bond films. Thea claimed an oversized chair to curl into while she and Oliver shared the plush sectional. Oliver offered her popcorn, but she went right for her Rocky Road, armed with a large spoon. She tried to watch the movie, but discovered her interest in the franchise’s international intrigue, explosions and high speed chases waned considerably without Pierce Brosnan and his dreamy Irish eyes. She refused to further dwell on Moira Queen or her son, but that left far too many matters to clog her brain. 

If they didn’t get a breakthrough soon, she was going to be arrested and if real disaster struck, going to jail. Her mom had wanted to hop a plane from Vegas to be with her after she’d read the first awful tabloid headline. Felicity had dissuaded her, but part of her was curious what Oliver would have thought of Donna Smoak. Her mom had already made clear her positive opinion on Oliver, the hunky, former-heir to billions. Hunky. Huh, so that’s where she got it from. 

No, her mom and her barely appropriate even in Vegas wardrobe needed to stay in Vegas. Felicity couldn’t afford the distraction right now no matter how suddenly appealing it sounded to see her mom. She realized with surprise how much she missed her. She could use a supply of her high energy, boundless optimism, and never ending hugs right about now. A wave of loneliness hit and she shivered.

“Are you cold?” Oliver asked.

Between the ice cream and spending so much time lately in the warm conservatory, Felicity decided she was. Oliver popped up to retrieve one of the throws.

“Oh, bring me one too, Ollie!” Thea commanded. 

Oliver brought his sister one and came back to the sectional. He spread open the blanket before rejoining her on the couch, throwing an arm around her shoulders and tucking her against his side. Felicity nervously glanced at Thea but the Queen sibling was already wrapped in her throw, watching the movie and working on another Red Vine. Felicity relaxed against Oliver, letting herself enjoy his heat while her thoughts wandered again. 

She scoured her mind for that unturned stone. Malcolm’s blackmail files, while packed with data—some of which most definitely needed to be leaked to the correct authorities once this was over—so far, hadn’t shed the kind of light she needed. 

There was a chance the program she left running might pluck out a potential suspect, someone who could have perhaps come in contact previously with Warren Patel in the past before they sought out the son. Obviously someone they were overlooking. A person that would have known and kept Malcolm’s secrets. Someone willing to do his dirty work. Someone that was here three years ago and either stayed or recently returned. Someone that didn’t want the list exposed. Ugh. Her criteria didn’t make much of a dent in the population of Starling City. She was clutching at straws. 

She tucked the blanket more thoroughly around her, leaned into Oliver and tried to clear her mind of the usual questions, hoping to make space for something new. Sometime later, she was drowsily pulled awake by a persistent vibration. Warm and very comfortable, she resisted at first, snuggling into her pillow.

“Felicity, your phone is buzzing,” Oliver said quietly. When he spoke, her pillow rumbled beneath her cheek. Oh, Oliver was her pillow. She didn’t remember going to bed. 

“Five more minutes.”

His hand gently stroked up and down her back. Then he shifted, slightly leaning forward to press a kiss to the crown of her head. “I’d happily let you sleep until morning but I think the alarm was for your program. You wanted to go through Malcolm’s data once it was organized.”

That popped her eyes open. They were still in the family room but the television was off and they were alone. “Where’s Thea? How long have I been asleep?” She dug beneath the throw to silence her phone.

“The movie ended about fifteen minutes ago. Roy stopped by half way through so she’s,” a weird look flitted across Oliver’s face, “not here.” 

She reached up and stroked Oliver’s face. His stubble was always thicker in the evening, but she liked its raspy texture. “It’s not easy being big brother, is it?” He leaned into her touch but didn’t answer. She changed the subject. “Did he say how Tommy was doing?”

Worry creased his forehead. “Not great. Kicked Roy out, though Roy can be irritating on his own, so it might not have anything to do with the rest.” His half-hearted attempt at a joke only underscored his concern. He shook his head, dismissing the subject. “Roy did have some good news: the news vans aren’t parked out by the gate.”

“Really? The press pool is finally drained?”

“Big blaze over at one of the warehouses in the Glades. Gas explosion.”

“I don’t suppose they’ll stay away.”

Oliver hesitated and then simply said, “No. Probably not.” 

She understood what he left unsaid. Tomorrow when she was officially charged, that would breathe new life into the story and bring the press back. Assuming she made bail and was allowed to come back. She pushed away the fear that made her want to curl up into a ball and hide. She wasn’t out of options yet. 

“What time is it?” She asked even as she checked her phone. Just barely after ten. It was earlier than she expected. She glanced at Oliver. If she didn’t have arrest hanging over her head, Oliver wouldn’t have been waiting around the mansion, twiddling his thumbs. Not tonight. “Why don’t you take advantage of the open gate and go talk to Tommy? He sent Roy away, but maybe he’s ready for his best friend about now.” Oliver considered her suggestion. 

“What about you?”

“Diggle still has all his handpicked guards in place and you know I have a slew of data to parse. Go. I’m fine.”

“Ok, but just for a couple hours.”

Felicity ran upstairs to get Verdant’s key from Thea in case Tommy wasn’t in the mood or sober enough to let Oliver in and then let Oliver escort her back to the conservatory before he took off. She dived into her data immediately. The new index gave her an idea of what was in each file without having to open and read every one individually. She was just about to click on an intriguing one when her phone rang. It was an unknown caller but a local area code, so she answered.

“Hello?”

“Am I speaking with Felicity Smoak?” The voice on the line sounded like a professional assistant. To the point, without all the false charm of most telemarketers.

“This is she.”

“I work with Favre, Wesson, Smith and Barns, Carina Welrose’s counsel.”

Excitement shot through Felicity. This could be the break she needed.

“Yes, I was expecting your call.” More like crossing her fingers and wishing on a star.

“In the interest of our client, my associates would like to further discuss the matter your lawyer brought to us. It was expressed to us your willingness to provide further details, all off the record of course. Given the time sensitive nature, would it be possible to meet tonight?”

It was more than a little past business hours, but she was under a deadline of her own.

“I’m staying at the Queen mansion. I can let security know to expect your arrival.”

“Hold please.” Canned music filled the connection for about ten seconds and then they were back. “Concerns have been raised about the high visibility of that location. We were hoping for a more neutral venue.” 

That would rule out the lawyers’ offices. She thought for a moment. “What about Verdant? The nightclub in the old industrial section of the Glades? It’s closed through the rest of this week.” Maybe longer if the police pushed through their co-conspirator theory. “I have access and the space would be private.” It would also have Oliver and Tommy around.

“Hold please.” Another ten seconds of canned music went by. “That location is acceptable. Can you be there in forty minutes?”

“I’ll have to see if Jean, my lawyer, is available.”

“I have your lawyer on the other line, if you’ll hold please.” Again they clicked off before she had a say in the matter. Felicity waited this time through two purely instrumental choruses of “Islands in the Stream” before the woman returned. 

“Ms. Loring will meet you at Verdant at the appointed time. Thank you for your assistance in this matter,” the assistant said and hung up. 

Felicity starred at her phone. She couldn’t point to any reason to think there was any risk, the meeting seemed straight forward and they’d let her choose where to meet, but just to be safe, she quickly redialed the number. A recording picked up on the second ring. “You have reached the offices of Favre, Wesson, Smith and Barns. Regular business hours are between…” Reassured, Felicity hung up. Then if that wasn’t enough, she received a text from Jean confirming the meeting. 

She didn’t have too much time to change and get there, but first, she clicked on the file that had caught her eye before her phone rang. Just a quick glance couldn’t hurt.

Twenty minutes later, she was rushing to get out the door. 

Oliver was only just pulling into Verdant when he received Felicity’s text telling him she’d be there to meet with Welrose’s lawyers in about twenty minutes. He had detoured to get a better look at the warehouse fire all the press had run off to cover. He could understand why. It lit up the night sky in a spectacular way even from the distance of the night club’s parking lot. There were so many fire engines and squad cars on location, from Verdant, it looked like the base of the fire flashed blue and red. 

He wasn’t sure why the lawyers were meeting at Verdant, but he texted Felicity back that he’d be waiting and then circled the lot just in case anyone had arrived early. He didn’t see anything but Tommy’s car. He parked his truck in the back as usual, got out, locked his doors, and headed in. 

Tommy hadn’t responded to any of his texts or calls, but when Oliver tried the handle on the big metal door, it was unlocked. He wasn’t sure that was a purposeful invitation or if Tommy had been too drunk to remember to lock up after Roy left. Oliver just hoped he didn’t find him in too bad of shape. Tommy wasn’t a mean drunk, but he went from morose to puking up his guts fast. 

Entering, he let the door lightly shut behind him. The loading dock and the hallway used as storage were pitch-dark but he could see some light coming from the main dance floor. He called out, announcing he was there. 

“Tommy!”

He didn’t get a response, but he wasn’t really counting on one. He had just crossed into the bar territory when he heard a shuffling sound behind him. He turned, but not fast enough. A painful blow exploded across the back of his head and the world went dark. 


	32. Chapter 32

When Felicity arrived at Verdant, she parked Thea’s snazzy, two-seat, BMW convertible next to Oliver’s pickup. Her Mini Cooper would have attracted less attention in the neighborhood, but it was still in police custody and there hadn’t been time to arrange for a driver. She glanced about the lot. There was no sign of Jean or the other lawyers, but she’d made good time. She was nervous but hopeful that with what she’d just found, she could convince them about Malcolm’s fixer and in turn, that they could convince Carina to name the person behind her antics.

And maybe, just maybe, then Felicity could convince the police she had nothing to do with George Patel’s murder. 

Once she got out, Felicity checked twice to make sure she’d locked the car doors and set the alarm; the wall of flames dominating the skyline was very distracting. She smoothed her hands down the basic black sleeveless dress she’d found in her wardrobe. Not as colorful as her normal picks, but it wasn’t too fancy or formal while still asking she be taken seriously. The glasses and the ponytail usually helped with that too. Glancing carefully around the back lot, she headed for the door. 

Finding the large, metal door slightly ajar was her first sign something was off. Even if the boys were expecting her and had wanted to leave the door unlocked, given the time of night, the alarm should have been on and told them the door had been left unlatched. Unless the security system was glitching again?

She was eerily reminded of the last time she’d found the backdoor unarmed and almost returned to the car. But Oliver was inside waiting for her. There was such a thing as being too careful.

As a compromise, Felicity pulled out her phone, ready to call the police at the next hint of a problem. Then she pushed open the heavy door, stepped inside. The door closed behind her.

Apart from the glow of her keypad, Verdant was devoid of light. The hair on the back of her neck rose. Damn, something was definitely wrong. But before she could dial 911, she felt something cold and hard press against the side of her temple followed by the snick of a cocked gun.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

***

With the muzzle of a gun wedged against Felicity’s temple, she went still even as her heart started to race. Lights came on and while she was blinking against the sudden brightness, her phone was snatched from her hand.

"I’ll take that.”

The gun shifted from her temple to her back. It wasn’t much of an improvement, but she breathed again. The gun nudged into her.

“Move. In there. Over in front of the bar.”

Felicity did as she was told. She hadn’t had a chance to see who was behind the gun, but the voice…she’d heard the voice before even if she couldn’t yet place it. 

“Jean and the other lawyers are not coming, are they?”

The woman behind her snickered and then launched into the same professional tone she’d used to arranged the impromptu meeting. “I’m terribly sorry, but for this private meeting, the lawyers of Favre, Wesson, Smith and Barns would just be in the way. But thank you for reaching out. It made getting you here all that much easier.”

Her first instincts had been right. It had been a fake call. She protested anyway.

“But I chose Verdant. I got a text from my lawyer.”

“You of all people should know how easy it is to clone a number. And as for the location, it was always going to end up Verdant. You suggesting it just saved time.”

The gun jabbed in her back again, propelling Felicity forward. When she came around the end of the bar, she saw something bulky half on the floor. No, not something, someone, a very specific someone. Her heart clutched and she gasped. She tried to dash the rest of the distance to where Oliver sprawled unconscious, slumped against the front of the bar. The woman wielding the gun had other ideas.

She grabbed her arm and yanked her back, twisting it hard and jabbing the gun deeper between her shoulders blades. “There’s no rush. He’s fine for now.” 

Felicity scoured the scene for signs to confirm her assurance. Oliver was eerily still; his head hanging forward, his skin, frighteningly pale. Something dark and wet matted the back of his head. Blood trickled down his neck. Panic started to rise up and then she saw it. His chest rose and fell and her heart started beating again. He was alive. But alone. 

“Where’s Tommy?”

“I told you,” her captor said giving her a hard shake, “they are fine. The other one went down back in storage. Seems he ran out of his booze of choice,” she tittered. “Both should wake up soon with a headache.” She snickered again. “One that will get a whole lot worse before the night is over. It's a pity Bethany Snow isn’t here to film it this time around. She always does nice work.”

Pieces of a puzzle Felicity had been too distracted to work suddenly fit together. She risked looking over her shoulder for confirmation. 

Carina Welrose. 

Oh, this was not good. Not for any of them. Unless…maybe she could do directly, what’d she’d hoped to do through Carina’s lawyers. Which brought about her first question.

“How are you here? You should be in jail.”

Easing back the gun, but keeping it steadily aimed, Carina moved around her until they could talk face to face. Her dark blond hair fell in straight lines to her shoulder, a stark contrast to the black top and black jeans she wore. Both looked brand new. As did the matching trainers. The ugly sneer Carina wore was not new but something was different about the rest of her demeanor. She wasn’t as nervous this time. Less manic. As if she felt more in control.

And she was.

They were alone in the middle of the Glades, Carina armed with a gun, and a closer look revealed Oliver’s hands secured behind his back with zip ties. Tommy was sure to have gotten the same treatment. 

The sneer became a smirk. “It’s good to have friends.”

Felicity scoffed. “The Mayor was at the Gala you held hostage. You threatened to kill Moira Queen. No judge would grant you bail.”

“And yet, here I am. And here you are. Funny how life gives you second chances. Now all we have to do is wait for Queen to wake up so he can watch when I kill you. I hope your deadly sex games with Patel didn’t disillusion him too much.”

Sex games? Felicity hadn’t read that one. “I didn’t even know Patel.”

“I don’t really care. Either way, I have it covered. If Oliver doesn’t give a damn about you, I kill you and then drag him over to watch as I kill his best friend since childhood. That will count for something.”

So much for hoping Oliver would wake up and be of some help. Now she prayed he remained unconscious. “You don’t have to kill anyone. Oliver isn’t responsible for your father’s death.”

Carina rolled her eyes. “So you are really going to do this?” Felicity hesitated, not sure what she meant. “Oh, I heard you were trying to sell my lawyers a crazy story to get me to rat out the one person helping me. It didn’t work. Even my lawyers didn’t believe you.”

“Then why did they tell you about it?”

Carina looked annoyed. “I don’t owe you any explanations. It doesn’t matter what anyone else believes. You just want a scapegoat. I know for a fact that Moira Queen had the Gambit salvaged. Either she blew it up or she tried to cover up what her son did. Once I’ve made the son suffer, I’ll make sure his mom does too. So no matter who is to blame, I get payback.”

“No you won’t. Moira salvaged the Gambit looking for proof about Malcolm Merlyn. He’s the one behind you father’s death.”

“Are you kidding me? You’d think a genius could make up a better story. I was here in Starling City the whole time. Do you think I’m an idiot? Do you think I don’t watch the news? Read the papers? I can’t count how many times I saw the bitch Queen and Merlyn cozy up together on some project they were pushing. If he killed her husband, why would she do that?”

“He threatened her kids if she didn’t. Malcolm had a plan. A horrible plan that Robert Queen wouldn’t go along with. Malcolm had him killed, but he still needed the weight of Queen Consolidated to make his plan happen. He leveraged Moira’s children’s lives against her.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I can prove it. Moira wasn’t the only one he forced to work for him. He had a whole list filling a book and blackmail material on everyone one. Hundreds of people.” 

“Where’s this list?”

“It’s back at the Queen mansion.” 

“Where a ton of guards are. I told you, I’m not stupid.”

“I’m telling you the truth. You want justice for your father. You can’t get it if you kill the wrong people.”

“I’ve got the son of Malcolm Merlyn. I think I’m covered.”

“Tommy knew nothing about any of it. His father practically disinherited him when he died. You can’t get justice that way. But Malcolm didn’t plant the bomb himself. You can still hold someone responsible.”

“You are just trying to distract me.” 

From killing them all? Yes, please. 

“I’m telling you the truth. The person who’s been helping you, they’re just using you. Feeding you lies to further their agenda.”

“No, they want the truth to get out. They want justice too.”

“They don’t care about justice. They killed George Patel and want you to tie up their loose ends.”

“If they killed Patel, why would they need me to kill anyone?”

“This is what they do. Arrange accidents or hire someone expendable to take the fall. It’s the same things they did working for Malcolm Merlyn to further his plan.” 

“What was his plan? Not that I believe you.” 

Carina was curious, maybe only a little bit, but Felicity was willing to work with anything.

“He was going to destroy the Glades. Wipe out everything he didn’t like, including the working people that lived there. Then he was going to rebuild what he thought should be there instead.” 

“What? He couldn’t do that. How?”

Felicity debated how much to tell her. Carina was already so skeptical, but maybe the truth, as crazy as it sounded, would ring true. “There were these machines that could cause earthquakes.”

“Earthquakes? You’ve got to be kidding me. You really do think I’m stupid.”

She shook her head quickly. “No. They are real, I’ve seen…” she hesitated. Carina was too unhinged to risk putting the devices in her possession. No matter what the risk, the Markov devices needed to stay lost in Tommy’s basement. “…blueprints for them. Malcolm was going to kill thousands more. Thousands of families destroyed just like yours.” 

“That’s insane.”

Oh the irony. Felicity nodded. “Yes. It was. And Robert Queen, Oliver’s father tried to stop him. Your father was taking him to someone that was going to help him stop Malcolm Merlyn’s insane plan. Oliver wasn’t a part of any of it. Neither was Moira. Malcolm murdered Robert. Murdered your father.” She had Carina’s attention. She dropped the clincher. “And you’ve been working with the person that made it happen.”

“No. No. That’s not true.” She immediately denied it, shaking her head, but she didn’t look as certain as before. 

“I think you know I’m telling the truth. The person helping you, they have a connection to Merlyn, don’t they?”

“It doesn’t mean anything. Lots of people work at Merlyn Global.”

Another answer.

“How many have the resources to get you out of jail? Did they bribe someone? Break you out? Think about it. What average Good Samaritan can pull that off? You being here is proof I’m telling you the truth. You’re right. Moira Queen salvaged the Gambit, but Malcolm found out and had his fixer take it away. That person, the same person responsible for killing your father, is the one that last had access to the Gambit. They used it as proof to get you to do what they wanted.”

“To take Oliver Queen down. He’d been gone for so long.”

“And they liked it that way. He came home looking for who really killed his father. Who killed your father, too. They used you to try to stop him from exposing your father’s killer. They are still using you.” 

“No. They’re going to help me. After all this is over, they’ll—”

“What did they promise? Money? A new identity? You are the scapegoat in all of this. Once you clean up their mess, there’s only one loose end left. You.”

“No.” She said forcefully, the acoustics bouncing her denial from every angle of the room, but her certainty was undercut by the nervous glances she shot around the cavernous space. 

“Yes,” Felicity continued to relentlessly press her. “Why else would they let you see their face? They always were going to kill you. Probably make it look like suicide. Just like your mom. And then your father will never get justice. Where are you supposed to meet them?” She slipped in the question, hoping to catch Carina off guard. It worked. 

“Here. She’s coming here.” Panic widened her eyes. “I’m too exposed. I need to control the situation.”

“Who is coming? Who has been helping you? Tell me a name and I’ll help you stop her.” Her. It had to be the woman on Verdant’s video driving her Mini Cooper. 

Suddenly Carina’s eyes narrowed on Felicity. Her sneer was back. “I don’t have a name and I don’t need your help…except as bait. She’ll see all of you dead and think she’s still in control. But I’ll be ready. I’ll finally get my revenge.” She smiled cruelly and raised her gun again. “Looks like you get to be collateral damage after all.” 

“Wait!” Felicity cried out, trying to think of reasons to stall. “Don’t you have to set the stage? She’s never going to believe you shot me without Oliver being awake. That’s the whole point, right?” It was a weak argument, full of holes, but it made Carina hesitate. Before Felicity could use the moment, a shot rang out above the dance floor from the upper shadows. Shocked, Carina clutched her stomach, blood already staining her hands. She sank to her knees. Terror overrode her pain. 

“Oh God, she’s already here,” she said and collapsed to the ground.

***

For Oliver, the gunshot was the opening of the starting gate. He’d been biding his time, conscious long enough to know playing possum was their best until he could get past the throbbing pain in his head. He listened and marveled as Felicity slowly convinced Carina of the truth about Malcolm Merlyn just like she’d convinced him weeks ago. Only Carina didn’t care who died for her revenge. 

As Felicity stalled, he opened his eyes without anyone noticing. The overhead lights quadrupled the pounding in his skull and caused his stomach to roil like it was his hundredth ride on a roller coaster. He willed the dizziness back; they were out of time, but before he could flex a muscle, let alone tackle Carina, the crack of a gunshot rang out. For a moment, all of them were too stunned to comprehend what was happening. Then Carina fell to the floor. 

Felicity was left standing across from her, a duck on an open pond, waiting to be picked off.

“Felicity! Get behind the bar!”

Other than to briefly glance at him in surprise, she ignored him. For a moment he thought she was in shock, mesmerized by the growing pool of blood on the ground, but then she went to scoop up the compact gun Carina dropped after she was shot. Only, before Felicity could touch it, another shot was fired, chipping the cement floor inches from the pistol lying on the dance floor. The next shot came even closer, finally propelling Felicity into full retreat. She half climbed, half leapt over the bar. 

Oliver took advantage of the distraction. Felicity’s instincts were dead on. They needed that gun or they’d be pinned down with no hope of getting out alive. Disorientated and with his hands still zipped together behind him, it was an awkward but quick struggle before he managed to get on his feet. He took a couple steps and then threw himself forward to land next to Carina’s prone body.

A fourth shot ripped out of the darkened VIP section. He flinched at the sound and rolled away but not before his fingertips brushed the cold metal of the gun’s slide. He quickly shifted back, clawing at it until his thumb looped through the trigger and then heaved himself back up onto his feet.

Too quickly.

Vertigo like he’d never experienced even during his worst drinking days hit and he had to stop and wait for the room to cease spinning and the grey corners of his vision to brighten. Either that or crumple where he stood. Now who was the target on an open pond? 

He tried to breathe through it, but as sweat popped out of his pores—both from the spinning nausea and an acute awareness of an imminent bullet with his name on it—out of the corner of his eye he saw movement and realized he’d caught a break. The shooter was in the process of switching locations.

A woman dressed like the runway version of an executive shifted her position from the shadows of the VIP lounge to the top of the stairs. She crouched to take aim and Oliver measured the distance to the bar. It would take only a moment to reach cover, but it had taken him too long to recover and a moment was too much when life or death came measured in split seconds.

Suddenly, something green zoomed by and bounced off the railing next to the shooter. They ducked reflexively. The first flying fruit was immediately followed by another lobbed lime. The shooter shifted their aim from Oliver to where Felicity stood at the far end of the bar.

“Get down!” he cried out. 

Felicity dropped just before the shiny, acrylic top of the bar cracked. At the same time, Oliver finally made his move. 

He rushed the remaining distance and threw himself backward over the top of the bar like a pole vaulter minus the pole. He landed hard on the other side. At least the rubber mat on the floor cushioned some of what would have been another very hard blow to his head. As it was, moving even that short distance turned his vision spotty again and there was a loud roar in his head to go with the splitting headache. 

“Oliver, Oliver!” 

He opened his eyes to the sound of Felicity calling his name. He groaned, fighting to keep from passing out, ready to vomit. 

“The gun,” he managed to grit out. “Get the gun.” He’d had it in his hands when he made the leap. Where did it go? It was the only thing standing between them and…the brief glance he’d gotten of the shooter had looked familiar. He couldn’t think. His head was pounding and everything was still whirling. Another shot was fired, this time hitting a bottle behind the bar sending shattered glass and liquid exploding everywhere. A second later Felicity was leaning over him. He tried to push her away. He should be the one shielding her, not the other way around, but his hands were still pinned behind him. 

“My hands.” It was all he got out. Felicity was already ahead of him. He felt the bonds come loose. She sat up brandishing the paring knife she used to cut through the plastic straps. Arms freed, he pushed himself up to a sitting position. 

That was a mistake. 

The massive headache he was trying to ignore exploded. His vision swam. He went still and closed his eyes, leaning against the shelves and breathing through his nose, but it wasn’t enough to stop the spinning. He pitched to the side and vomited what remained of his meal from Big Belly Burger.

“Oliver!” 

He started to shake his head, but it only made things worse. He retched again and then panted, trying to get control. “I’m fine,” he reassured her even though he didn’t feel it. “Find the gun. I had it.” 

She scooted around behind him to look. “I see it,” she called out. Carefully, without jarring his head, Oliver followed her gaze. The gun had bounced just past the end of the bar out in the open. 

Felicity crawled close and leaned out to grab it when a bullet ricocheted off the floor. She snatched her hand back just in time. They needed that gun. He had to do something. He followed her earlier example and grabbed something off the shelf in front of him. Closing his eyes, trusting his instincts, and somehow ignoring the pain and another wave of dizziness, he popped up long enough to launch the prickly thing as hard as he could in the direction of where he’d last seen the shooter.

He fell back to the floor but not before he heard a satisfying grunt. He heard Felicity scrabble out on her hands and knees. “I’ve got it!” 

“A pineapple?” A woman shrieked in offended horror. “Did you really just throw a pineapple at me?”

“You threw a pineapple at her?” Came Felicity’s softer query.

He couldn’t respond, too ill to even open his eyes, but the wide grin he heard in her tone made him feel marginally better. He heard Felicity scoot back toward him and felt her cool hands on his face.

“Oliver?”

“I’m okay,” he managed to say, but his words were slurred. Pain was reverberating through his skull. He would have thrown up again but there was nothing left. 

“I got the gun,” she told him and tried to press it into his hands, but he pushed it back at her.

“I can’t. You…” he trailed off and then gave her quick instructions for the compact weapon. “To cock it, pull back the metal slide on top. Make sure the safety’s off. Pull the trigger.”

Felicity nodded, reached above the bar, and blindly squeezed the trigger. Her shot went wild. He should have mentioned aiming. Their attacker wasn’t impressed. 

“You’re going to have to do better than that,” she shouted sounding almost amused. “You are out of your element Ms. Smoak.”

Felicity scowled and called back. “Not all of us can be Malcolm Merlyn’s former fixer, Ms. Dickerson.”

Ashley Dickerson. Oliver finally put a name to the face. Merlyn Global’s Public Relation’s Director. She wasn’t much older than he was. She was Malcolm’s fixer?

There was silence. When the woman answered, she was no longer amused. “So you figured that out. You found something in Merlyn’s files, didn’t you? I knew you were going to be a problem. But not for long. You have ten seconds to surrender or Malcolm’s disappointment of a son will no longer have to worry about meeting the terms of his father’s will.”

New panic hit. He’d forgotten about Tommy. 

“Where’s your loyalty?” Felicity called back. “You would kill Malcolm’s son?”

“It died with Malcolm when he made the mistake of upsetting the Triad.”

Felicity and Oliver exchanged glances. Apparently his mother had been extremely successful in covering her tracks. 

“Come out now,” Ashley repeated her demand. “You’re only delaying the inevitable.”

“I’m ok with that!” Felicity immediately shouted back. If their situation hadn’t been so grim, he would have smiled. “Besides,” she went on, “You can’t get to Tommy. You’d have to get past us to get to the storage area.”

“Carina lied. Tommy is right here in the VIP section. Come out and I will spare his life. He’s been unconscious the whole time.”

Felicity looked to Oliver, torn. “Do we know for sure where Tommy is?”

“I never saw him. But why would Carina lie?” 

Felicity shouted as much to Ashley. “You don’t have him. Why would Carina bother to lie?”

“Why did that deranged woman do anything? She barely needed any coaching before she was ready to kill you both.” She punctuated her remark with another shot. It pitted into the front of the bar. Felicity fired back. It was quiet for a moment, then, Felicity spoke again.

“Your plan failed Ashley. Give yourself up.” 

An amused laugh rang out. “Me? I admit, I had planned on things going down a bit cleaner, but I can still work with this. The police will still find four dead bodies. Instead of Carina falling to suicide once she’d achieved her revenge, she must have struggled with someone over the gun. It went off and hit her before she could wrest back control. No, everything is still fine.”

Something felt off about the exchange, Oliver thought. Ms. Dickerson hadn’t struck him as a chatty person. 

“People are coming,” Felicity warned. “You’re out of time.” 

He stared at Felicity, trying to tell if she was lying. He couldn’t tell, but that meant neither could Ashley. 

She made a loud, scoffing sound. “No one’s coming. I watched Carina take your phone away before you could press a button. I have all the time I need.”

Time. That’s what was going on. Ashley was stalling just as much as they were. But why?

“You’re wrong,” Felicity retorted. “Your secret is already out. Run now and maybe you’ll stay out of jail for a few more hours.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“It’s why you killed George Patel, isn’t it,” Felicity continued. “He figured out your connection to Malcolm Merlyn.”

“Hardly. My reputation as the force behind Malcolm Merlyn’s power is how I get my clients, clients that have a vested interest in keeping my secret safe. I killed Patel because he was a fool of the worst kind…”

The warning bell that had been going off in Oliver’s head sounded full alarm. She had to be absolutely certain they’d be silenced to make such a confession.

“…full of slick charm, too arrogant to listen. And in my line of business, that kind of stupidity is dangerous. When we searched your townhome for the Verdant's door code, he might as well have signed his name. It wasn’t going to take long before he was arrested, but worse than his stupidity, was his lack of loyalty…”

His headache was down to a low throb and his dizziness was fading. He was thinking more clearly. Ashley chattered on like someone too nervous to stop. But that didn’t fit.

“… would have sold me out in a heartbeat. Oh yes, he had to go.”

Or maybe someone intent on filling the silence.

Dickerson chuckled. “Making the police think you’d done it, that was just for fun. I already had the wig. Next time don’t leave your keys at a crime scene. You or Tommy Merlyn, I didn’t care who the police went after as long as it wasn’t me.”

Yes, filling the silence. But why? To covering up other sounds. That was it. A swell of knowing speared through him.

Oliver grabbed the gun out of Felicity’s hand and with his adrenaline kicking in, surged to his feet to find Ashley only a few feet away. He got off his shot first. It buzzed close, missing her, but it was enough to send her in running for cover. She was headed toward the sound equipment on the stage where the DJ’s played. Before she reached shelter, he pulled the trigger again, but the slide on the little Glock jammed. He dropped to a crouch behind the bar, sweating and breathing heavily to control his most recent wave of vertigo.

“Oh my God, she almost—”

“The gun jammed,” he said interrupting Felicity. Neither of them needed to think about how close Ashley came to ending their standoff.

Oliver gritted his teeth and tried to focus on the weapon in his hands. He wasn’t what you’d call a gun enthusiast, but he’d had to carry one on a couple job sites before. He’d made sure he knew what he was doing. Relying more on muscle memory than his eyes, he efficiently popped out the magazine, pushed the metal slide back and dumped the spent casing that failed to eject on the ground but pocketed the unchambered round. It might be usable or it might be why the gun jammed. He checked the number of bullets remaining in the magazine. It took a moment for his double vision to clear. He cursed softly.

“What is it?” Felicity mouthed.

“Two, possibly three bullets left,” he whispered back. In his condition, which he could feel deteriorating, his aim was shit and Felicity hadn’t even been aiming. They wouldn’t be able to hold Dickerson off for much longer. There was no way he could make a run for it…but Felicity could. 

He pulled the bullets from the magazine and then carefully replaced them, putting the questionable third one in the last position and then snapped the clip back into place.

He pointed at the open end of the bar. “Get down there and when I start firing, run. Get out of here.”

“What? No!” She furiously whispered back. “I’m not leaving you behind.”

He opened his mouth to demand she do just that, but was headed off by a rapid pair of shots unexpectedly erupting not from the stage, but from the cover of the loading dock. He threw himself over Felicity, not knowing where the shots were aimed. He didn’t think either of them had been hit, but with the next shot, they heard a short grunt of pain, followed by Ashley quickly firing back. Bullets keep coming, firing in rapid succession, and continuously getting further away.

“She’s going out the front!” Felicity shouted. There was another volley of gunfire back and forth, and then silence. 

It stretched out, the gunfire still echoing in his ears. Or maybe the pounding in his head had teamed up with his ear drums. Felicity seemed unhurt, but his vision was going spotty again. 

A voice called out.

“Felicity, Oliver. You okay in there?”

Diggle. Felicity had called in the carvery after all. 

An enormous rush of relief was the last thing he felt before the world once more went black. When he opened his eyes again, he was lying down, his head pillowed in Felicity’s lap. He tensed and tried to sit up, but she firmly held his shoulders down.

“Stay still. Diggle chased her off. We’re safe.”


	33. Chapter 33

Felicity hesitated outside Oliver’s darkened hospital room, peering in from the hall. The police and the paramedics coming from the nearby fire had arrived at Verdant not long after Diggle. Oliver got the second ambulance, the first one going to Carina, who surprisingly was still holding on. Word was she’d survived surgery and barring complications would be around to stand trial. 

Tommy, still slightly drunk, was found right where Carina said she’d left him. He rode in with Oliver to the hospital so he could get checked out in the ER. Like Oliver, he’d been hit from behind. Turned out, the thick glass on the bottom of a premium bottle of vodka made a club hard as a cinderblock. 

Lucky for Tommy, he’d only received a glancing blow. He was examined, given a few stitches and released as long as he had someone that could wake him periodically during the night. Verdant wasn’t an option with the whole place taped off as a crime scene. Moira insisted he come to the mansion. Tommy refused and Roy ended up being the one keeping an eye on him back at his motel room. 

Before Oliver took his ride to the hospital, he’d been slipping in and out of consciousness. Unsurprisingly, the doctors ruled he had a concussion. Starling General was keeping him overnight for observation and would decide the next day when he could go home. 

Or at least that was all the news Thea texted her. 

Felicity hadn’t talked to Oliver since he’d been whisked away. She’d spent hours at the police station answering the same questions again and again. Diggle had been able to back up some of what she told them, but the police had been highly skeptical. Same with the short statement they’d taken from Oliver at the hospital, convinced he’d lie for her. 

As for Ashley Dickerson having anything to do with George Patel’s murder and or the Malcolm Merlyn connection, they’d outright laughed…until Felicity figured out Dickerson must have installed her own surveillance in Verdant like she’d had in the townhome.

It had been something Ashley said. She claimed to have seen Carina take the cell phone before Felicity could press a button, but hiding on the second floor as Dickerson had been doing, she couldn’t have seen anything. There were no sightlines from the VIP section to the loading dock or the storage area. 

Everyone knew Tommy didn’t even have his own video system to tap into. The outside of his club, yes, but inside his “what happens at Verdant stays at Verdant” stance was part of his marketing. 

The detectives weren’t exactly eager to believe her claim of a secret feed, but that was what lawyers were for and Jean Loring made sure they investigated her claim immediately. 

She waited while they ran a signal sweeper through the club and eventually they found the hidden surveillance worked into the wiring for the sound equipment. Up in the VIP lounge they even put two and two together and realized the tablet they’d found abandoned there might have come from the suspect. The SCPD opened it up and found it not only tapped into the feed, but linked to a backup of past recordings. With the timeline Felicity gave them, it didn’t take them long to find the proof she needed. 

It was all there. Ashley’s confession of Patel’s murder, shooting Carina, trying to kill them, and her admission of framing both Felicity and Tommy. 

Felicity checked the hospital corridor again. Still quiet. She’d passed Moira and Thea in the family waiting room, one asleep on the couch and the other curled up in a chair. She envied them; she was exhausted. It was late. An hour past late and well past visiting hours even if she had been family and officially allowed to visit, but she’d risked the wrath of any real life Nurse Ratchet and came anyway. 

She slipped into Oliver’s private room. It was on the spacious side with a large padded chair pulled up next to his bed. The shades on the windows had been left open and the light of the waning moon let her see his face and watch the steady rise and fall of his chest. Something tight in her chest loosened. 

She stood watching him for a few minutes. The urge to reach out and touch his face or take his hand was hard to resist, but she didn’t want to wake him. He could have been killed. So could have she, but that seemed less real. She wasn’t the one in the hospital. 

She’d told herself she was just going to stop and check on him in person and that would be enough to quell the anxiety that had kept building throughout the evening. And now she’d seen him. She should go. 

Oliver didn’t need her to guard him. Ashley Dickerson hadn’t been caught yet, but the police and Diggle agreed that she likely was out of state by now and trying for out of the country. She had no reason to risk coming back to silence them now that the cat was out of the bag.

Felicity knew logically she should go back to the mansion, get a couple hours of sleep. But now that she was there with Oliver only inches away, leaving seemed impossible. She eyed the chair and then perched lightly. She’d stay a few minutes more.

“Miss, Miss.”

A gentle but persistent voice broke through the layers of haze. Her head snapped back and for a moment Felicity wasn’t certain where she was. 

Hospital.

Her gaze went to the bed. It was empty. Before she felt more than a fleeting concern, the toilet flushed in the adjoining bathroom. 

“Miss.” The nurse, wearing soft blue scrubs with ice cream cones scattered all over her top, made sure she had her attention and then smiled at her, kindly, but firmly. 

“Mr. Queen needs his rest, but he insisted on speaking with you. Since he is up, I can give you a few minutes, but then you’ll have to go, ok?” It wasn’t really a question.

Felicity nodded automatically. 

The sound of the faucet came on and off and the door opened. The nurse left her to shadow Oliver back to his bed, making sure he was in no danger of falling. Once she had him settled, she shot a final stern look at them both. “Just a few minutes,” she repeated and stepped out into the hall. 

Oliver’s eyes were bloodshot and there were dark shadows beneath them. That and that he’d meekly gotten back in bed as ordered sold her on just how much rest he did need, but when he opened his arms and said, “Come here,” Felicity scooted in bed with him without a second thought, letting him fold her into his arms. She pressed her cheek to his chest and breathed him in: safe, warm, and solid, if slightly smelling of the same disinfectant used everywhere in the hospital.

“Are you ok?” He asked. She laughed, but even to her own ears it sounded a bit watery.

“I’m not the one with the scrambled brains.”

“I’m fine.”

“Liar,” she accused without much heat.

He stroked her back and leaned his chin on her head. He sighed. “I will be fine. What happened after I…” Oliver trailed off.

“After you kept passing out?” That had been terrifying and awful. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so helpless and frustrated when they wouldn’t let her leave with him. “I wanted to be here, I tried to come sooner, but—”

“I know, I heard from Thea.” He continued to stroke the length of her back as if he needed to touch her as much as she needed his touch. “I’m glad you’re here now.”

“Ashley had all of Verdant bugged like the townhome. The police were able to hear everything. They are going to want to question your mom about Malcolm and his plan. I said I was bluffing about some of it, like the blackmail list.”

“Mom can take care of herself. Did they catch Ashley?”

“They’re looking but think she’s skipped town.”

“What about Carina? How did she get out of jail?”

“It seems Ms. Dickerson had her own blackmail list. She got a judge to release Carina on bond. He’s already confessed to police. They are going after all Dickerson’s private files now.”

“And where do you stand with the police?”

“All charges have been dropped. They are now satisfied neither Tommy nor I were involved in Patel’s murder. Jean is arranging for them to have a press conference to that effect tomorrow, I mean later this morning.”

“Good, then it will finally be over.”

She nodded but couldn’t help wonder if that meant it was _all _over, them included. They’d said two months, but Oliver had his answers. Would he stick around a city that had turned on him in the past? Moira had already technically replaced him as lead of the Initiative. He had an out to that commitment if he wanted to leave Starling City right away. She was almost afraid to ask what happened next. 

“So…once they let you out of here, any plans?” How was that for vague? 

“I can’t keep staying at the mansion,” Oliver answered. Also pretty vague, but she could work with that.

“I have a line on a place, if you’re interested,” Felicity offered. “Ray is feeling bad about stealing Curtis away, so he offered use of a corporate apartment currently sitting empty.”

“Wait, he did what with Curtis?”

With all that had happened, Felicity forgot she hadn’t told anyone. At least almost being shot—again—and Oliver in the hospital brought perspective to the disappointing situation. If she could face down a contract killer, she could start her business on her own. 

“Curtis took Ray Palmer up on his offer to work as a subsidiary of Palmer Tech.”

“You’re kidding. How could he do that to you?”

She shrugged. “Charges were looming over my head; I guess he decided waiting around for me was too big a risk. It was a logical way to protect himself from the fallout.”

“It was a cowardly ass move.”

His anger warmed her heart. 

“What does this mean for your company?” He asked. “Will you put off your plans?”

“No. It will be more demanding on my own but maybe that’s for the best.”

“How?”

“Curtis and I couldn’t agree on our focus. Maybe our partnership was another distraction slowing me down. I’ve retained half the seed investors and I’m hopeful I can lure more back once I’m publically exonerated. After Phase One of the Initiative is complete, I should be ready to hang out my shingle.” Butterflies swarmed in her stomach just saying it aloud. “Or are shingles just for lawyers? And doctors probably. Not ones at hospitals but in private practice and…” She was babbling. She forced herself not to finish that sentence. 

Oliver was silent for a minute.

“I heard from the contractor mom put in charge of the Initiative. They’ve fallen behind. Think you could delay opening Smoak Tech a couple extra weeks so we can catch up?”

Relief washed through her. He was still planning on keeping his commitment, even extending the clock. 

“I think I could get on that page.” She smiled into his chest and fought to keep three little words inside. It was too soon, but they had more time. They had their two months, and for now, that was all she needed to know. 

There was one thing Oliver needed to know. 

“I’m not naming my company Smoak Tech.” She’d leave it to the Queen family to plaster their name on the sides of buildings. 

***

Two months after Oliver was released from the hospital, Felicity rolled over, her arm flopping across the other side of the bed. When she met empty space, the wrongness was enough to bring her awake. Lifting her head, she said his name.

“Oliver?” 

Blinking her bleary eyes, she saw Oliver lean out of the bathroom, half dressed. 

“Go back to sleep. It’s early still.” He pulled a t-shirt on over his head and then layered on a Henley before reaching for a short, black pea coat. Lately, the fall mornings were chilly. 

She glanced at the window. The sun wasn’t up yet.

“Why are we awake predawn?” That was one of the things she appreciated about Oliver’s vocation, construction couldn’t start until the sun was firmly up. 

“I want to do a final walk-through of each site before anyone arrives.”

“Everything looked perfect last night,” she said knowing it would make no difference. 

Over the last couple months, Oliver had treated the Foundation Initiative like his baby; no detail was too big or small for his personal attention.

“I want to see it in the natural light. Go back to sleep,” he repeated. He sat on the edge of the mattress and leaned in to give her a quick kiss before collecting his wallet, phone, and keys from the night stand. As he turned to leave, she called out.

“Will you be back before ten? Remember the realtor is taking me to look around downtown at offices. You said you’d think about joining us.”

He hesitated at the doorway not looking back. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be. Go ahead without me.” A moment later she heard the outer door of the temporary apartment they shared open and close. 

Felicity dropped her head to the pillow with a sigh. Their time together since Carina was shot and Dickerson exposed had been wonderful except for one thing. Well two things actually. 

They never talked about the future beyond when the Memorial Initiative was completed and every time the topic of Smoak Tech came up—the name had stuck after all—Oliver pulled away. 

It wasn’t like he said anything that undermined her plans. He’d only behaved like an immature sourpuss about her dreams that one time before they’d ever gotten together. He never complained when she was busy coding. He even made snacks and gave excellent neck rubs, but anytime she tried to talk about her life once Smoak Tech opened its doors, he changed the subject or rushed off for some just remembered errand. 

She rolled over and hugged the pillow. This afternoon, the first phase of the Robert Queen Memorial Initiative would be officially complete and Oliver’s commitment to the project and to the promise he’d made her would be over. She sighed and sat up. There would be no more sleep this morning.

By that afternoon, she’d looked at half a dozen spaces that would meet her initial requirements and two that would also be perfect when she needed to expand, but the excitement she’d expected to feel taking this big step wasn’t there. It was hard planning a future she didn’t know included Oliver or not. Her agent urged her to sign the lease today, but she couldn’t decide on which location, which was why she was back at the Sixth Street property. 

On the plus side, if Oliver was a part of her future, the Queen Foundation offices were conveniently located just around the block. But if he was still planning on leaving Starling City, since the matriarch of the Queen family had yet to normalize relations, then would Moira’s favorite lunch spot located on the ground floor of the 6th Street building be worth the increased chance of bumping into her on a weekly, if not daily basis? For once, Felicity needed Moira to be the one to make the effort, but as the days turned to weeks, that seemed less likely. 

Her phone rang and she welcomed the distraction. A glance at the display told her it was Thea. At least one member of the Queen family was still confiding in her. 

“Hi Thea, how’s it going?”

“You were totally right about the space on Schwartz. It’s exactly what I was looking for. Sent the lawyers a copy of the lease to look over and pending their approval, Accolades will have found its home.”

“I’m so happy for you.” Thea’s new direction was a lovely swerve. As soon as the police removed restrictions, Tommy reopened his club, but he almost immediately took off for destination unknown, only returning to Starling about a week ago. But before he left, he put Thea in charge. 

She ran with her responsibility and brought Verdant back to the peak of its success in just six weeks. The shooting and the truth about Ashley Dickerson’s attempt to frame them for Patel’s murder only drew in the crowds. At the same time, Thea kept her commitment to the Initiative and brought her design plans for the rebuilt homes to life in fresh and cozy ways.

Accolades was the result of Thea having to decide between continuing on as designer for the Queen Foundation or managing Verdant full time. She decided instead to take a bit from both and carve out her own niche as an event planner slash design consultant so she could pursue all aspects of her passion.

She was more serious about her plans than Felicity had ever seen her about anything. Thea had even signed up for online business classes, not that she was waiting on her education before launching her first event. She already hosted some offsite parties for Verdant and consulted on the design of a new restaurant downtown. Tommy promised a contract to plan special nights for Verdant as well. 

Felicity was pleased for Thea, if a little envious of how clearly she knew what she wanted. 

“Thanks. And how’s office hunting working for you? You’re back looking at the place on 6th, right?”

“Yes. It’s probably perfect.” Felicity glanced around the empty space. It was barren now, but it wouldn’t take much to fill it with humming machines. 

“What aren’t you sure of?”

“I’m not sure if it, um, has enough space to breath.”

“Meaning you’re worried it’s too close to mom’s favorite lunch spot. This has dragged on too long Felicity. You two need to talk.”

“Ball is in your mom’s court, Thea.”

“Yeah, which is why I hope you will forgive me for what I did.”

Felicity gripped the phone harder. “What did you do?”

“She wanted to know. I’m taking that as a positive.”

“Thea.”

“I’ve got to go. If this goes horribly…”

“Don’t you hang up on me!”

“…I will give you the red Manolo Blahnik’s you like...”

Thea loved those shoes as well. Cold dread came over her. “What did you do?!” She demanded again. 

“…Love you! Bye!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are winding down soon, but not immediately since we still have a few things to resolve. After this post, there will be four more, so two more weeks of posts. It's not premature to thank every single one of you for going on this journey with me. I sincerely hope the conclusion will be as satisfying for you as it was for me. :D


	34. Chapter 34

What had Thea done?

Felicity had a good guess, in which case, she needed to get out of there. Maybe there was still time. Maybe she could take the stairs. 

Maybe not.

Before she could reach the door to freedom, Moira Queen swept into the empty office wearing one of her classically tailored, dove grey, power suits. She shut the door behind her.

"Hello Felicity.” Moira glanced around the space, her expression neutral, but Felicity felt judged just by her being there.

“Moira.” Felicity carefully returned her phone to her bag and crossed her arms in front of her chest. It was a defensive stance and she hated being so obvious, but she wasn’t a fan of being cornered either. “Please step out of the way. I’d like to leave now.”

Moira continued to block the main exit. 

Felicity turned on her heel. There was another way out of here somewhere. She couldn’t at the moment remember where the other exit was, but surely if she just started opening doors she’d find it soon enough. 

“Wait. Please.”

It was the entreaty that made her stop. Felicity slowly turned back around, shaking her head. 

“Why would you want a treacherous, deceitful whore anywhere near you?”

Moira winced, but approached until she was only an arms-length away. 

“I owe you an apology.” Moira began. She spoke with extra care, slowly and calmly, like she was tip-toeing around a wild animal. Moira on eggshells almost made Felicity laugh, but she wasn’t sure it was out of amusement or nerves. 

“I reacted completely out of line,” Moira continued. “For a very long time, placing my trust in others…has been extremely difficult. You saved my daughter. You’ve been a friend to all of us. You brought my son home. When I found out you had been behind Oliver’s investigation, I was shocked and hurt and lashed out not thinking beyond trying to inflict the same kind of pain I was feeling.”

“Excuses are not an apology.” Moira had accomplished exactly what she’d intended and that kind of hurt didn’t simply vanish. Maybe Moira’s words would have been enough if she’d come to her right away, but too much time had passed. 

“No, you are correct,” Moira agreed. “There are no excuses for my behavior or for how long it has taken me to apologize, but I deeply regret both. What I said reflected far worse on me than on you.”

Felicity’s eye twitched, but she managed to stifle the eye roll she felt coming on. Trust Moira Queen to make an apology into a contest between who was the more injured party. Thankfully, she didn’t stop there. 

“My words were vulgar and I regret the hurt and embarrassment I brought to you and to myself. Not since Robert’s first infidelity…” Moira paused, pressing her lips together. “I will not offer more excuses, but I hope one day you will be able to forgive me.”

It was a thorough apology, more than Felicity expected, and Moira’s remorse seemed genuine. She’d hated the fracture between them and part of her simply wanted it over. Wished it could be, but… Felicity shook her head. “Why now? It’s been nearly two months.”

“Phase One of the Foundation’s Initiative is complete.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Moira looked around the bare rental space. “I understand Smoak Tech will shortly be opening its doors. I have a job for you. Merlyn Global’s systems need to be brought into alignment with the rest of Queen Consolidated.”

“A contract?” The merger had gone through despite the scandal that came out about Malcolm’s plans for the Glades, not to mention Moira’s forced involvement. Well, a version of the story came out. 

Felicity had already denied to the police that Malcolm’s blackmail list was anything more than an urban legend she’d used to stall Carina. The completed earthquake machines, which were still secretly secured in Verdant’s basement, received the same treatment and the Malcolm’s whole plan branded as failed science. 

They also collectively agreed to keep the hit Moira contracted on Malcolm Merlyn secret. No one was asking those questions and even Tommy grimly accepted there might not have been any other way to stop his father. Was it justice? Maybe not, but thousands were alive because of Moira’s actions and well, they had no proof to take to the police. Moira had learned to cover her tracks. And for once, Felicity couldn’t see the benefit of further digging. 

As for the rest of the convoluted tale, it landed Bethany Snow Starling City’s exclusive of the decade. Anonymously received, of course, as Thea had suggested. First they sent the video of Robert Queen fighting with the long missing Glades’ Councilman. Along with it, they sent evidence of Malcolm’s attempt to blackmail Robert into backing his mad plan to destroy the Glades. And when Queen refused, the evidence Merlyn sabotaged the Gambit to silence him, followed by threatening Moira’s remaining children if she didn’t do as he wished. 

Technically, they had Ashley Dickerson to thank for the kind of proof Felicity had not previously been able to find. When Malcolm ordered the sabotage of the Gambit, he’d gone to his young but frighteningly capable assistant, Ashley. She’d been smarter than Malcolm gave her credit for. She did his dirty work, but she kept records detailing Malcolm’s involvement. Her most sensitive files had been protected by a near unbreakable encryption that had stumped the police’s cyber team at first, but then, surprise, surprise, they’d been handed the key to cracking it by a white hat hacker named Ghost Fox Goddess. 

Most of the shocking revelations went as expected, but in a twist Felicity felt she should have seen coming, once CEO Moira Queen and her spin machine got involved, Moira became the tortured widow of a flawed hero who stalled a madman until fate intervened. When Thea, Oliver, and Tommy decided what to go public with, no one expected Moira to emerge a symbol of resistance for the downtrodden. If they’d included a rumor about Moira contracting the Triad to take Malcolm out, the public probably would have given her a medal. 

One clear, net positive came of the scandal. The local politicians and the people of Starling City were now overwhelmingly backing all proposed phases of the Initiative. Money was pouring into the Foundation and there was a flood of interest from businesses looking to either expand their footprint in the old part of the city or ready to support locals wanting to open shop. The Glades would rise in part because Malcolm Merlyn tried to destroy it. 

Merlyn Global, however, was set to vanish, leaving the Queen name to reign alone. By year’s end, Malcolm’s name would be wiped from every edifice it once graced. The next step was aligning the two corporation’s computer systems so internally it could be erased as well. 

“Yes,” Moira said, patting her tote. “I have a copy of the contract here. You can make use of the IT department, supplementing whatever staff your company hires. Some details would need to be worked out, but I assure you, you would have near complete discretion on the project.”

The high profile job would not only put Smoak Tech immediately in the black, but would also shore up her chipped reputation in the industry. Plus, it would give her time to leisurely roll out her security advances and finish up a video editing app she was tinkering with born from her clandestine visit to Merlyn Global’s server room. It was a dream opportunity. Felicity shook her head. 

“There has to be a catch. And why bring it to me now, before I’ve even signed a lease? Do you think you can buy my forgiveness? And what does this have to do with the end of Phase One?” Moira blinked before lowering her gaze, unwilling to meet her eye. “Yes, I noticed you never gave me a real answer. I deserve one.”

“Really,” Moira huffed, “you are making too much of the timing.” 

Felicity tilted her head to the side considering the claim. Moira was fidgeting with the handle to her tote. She was not the picture of control and serenity she liked to portray. “No,” Felicity said slowly, “I don’t think so. Tell me the truth.”

Moira frowned. “If you must know, it is simply that Oliver’s commitments to the Initiative, and thus yours as well, will be at an end. It will be an ideal time for you both to start fresh on whatever paths you next choose.”

Felicity reeled back as if she’d been slapped. The last couple years she’d specialized in understanding what Moira _wasn’t_ saying. Oliver’s mother might as well have shown up at the apartment, packed her bags and handed her a bus ticket out of town. 

“Separate paths, you mean. You’re offering me a bribe to leave Oliver.” 

***** 

“So Thea left the one on that wall, and added the spotlight so it’s easy to find the bullet hole.” Slouched in one of the plush booths up on the second level in the VIP lounge, Tommy pointed at the indentation in the back wall.

After Oliver finished his walk through of the completed sites, he took a chance and offered to bring lunch if Tommy was going to be around. He’d been back in town about a week, but they hadn’t had a chance to really catch up. Over burgers, Tommy told him about the isolated beauty he saw when he randomly decided to hole up in a small Icelandic village to sort through all the feelings the revelations about his father stirred up. Felicity had been worried, but Oliver saw it as Tommy’s version of his cabin in the woods. 

Sometimes you needed to be alone with your thoughts before you could think.

The time away had done Tommy good. He missed the peak interest in the scandal and came back determined not let his father’s past infect his future. While he was away, the board overseeing his shares in Merlyn Global made a sudden decision that he had met the criteria laid out in his father’s will, which meant when he came of age, there no longer was any question if he’d inherit the vast fortune Malcolm so grudgingly willed to his son.

“The frame is a nice touch.”

“Isn’t it? I’m thinking of adding a plaque.” Tommy turned his head toward the bar. “Roy!” he shouted. 

“What!” They couldn’t see Roy’s from where they were in the VIP section, but there was no mistaking his irritated shout.

“Add getting a plaque to your list. Brass. Something small. Tasteful. I’ll text you the inscription.”

“I don’t work for you anymore!”

Tommy ignored him. “Might as well take the van and pick up the napkins we need while you’re out.” One of the cost saving changes Thea had made was consolidating their supply needs at a local warehouse store. It was cheaper and they were no longer at the mercy of the delivery guy’s schedule. The work van with Verdant’s logo emblazoned on its side had been her idea too. It doubled as a roving billboard for the club and had appeared each time Verdant hosted an exclusive pop up event around Starling and the Glades. Tommy’s expansion plans were now on the fast track to meet the added demands. 

Oliver heard muttered cursing and then the clink of Roy scooping up the van’s keys off the bar. Moments later he heard the back metal door banging shut. 

“Roy has a point,” Oliver said after taking a sip of the brew Tommy had provided. “Didn’t he quit when Thea did?” 

Roy stayed on at Verdant while Thea was running the place in Tommy’s absence. He was ready to follow Thea into her next venture. There was a lot more building and set up involved in party planning than Oliver realized. And if Accolades didn’t work out, he could always join the crew of one of the next phases of the Initiative. Though with Thea’s determination and their mom’s connections, success for her new business was guaranteed. 

“Hey, I didn’t have a choice about hiring him. He just showed up and started calling me Boss. So why should he get a choice about quitting?” Tommy sipped his beer. “I figure I’ve got him till Thea needs him to build her a chuppah or something.”

“A hoop-a?”

“You know. That arch or trellis-like thing Jewish people get married under.”

Oliver scowled and all but growled, “Thea is not Jewish.”

Tommy laughed, throwing his head back and hooting. “For her business, idiot. Though I guess Roy is the first guy she’s been serious about.”

“Thea’s too young to get married.”

“And we’re back to ‘I do’. Someone sure has marriage on the mind.”

“You’re the one that brought up weddings,” he grumbled.

“I’m sorry I did.”

“Weren’t you about to tell me about your big plan?” Oliver asked, pleading for a subject change. 

“Not much to tell yet.”

“But your inheritance? You’re not keeping it?”

“Anything from Dad is tainted. Besides, shucking off the family fortune worked for you.”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“You do now. Moira would set you back up in a heartbeat.”

“I don’t want the strings.”

“And I don’t want to wonder how many lives my father destroyed to build his pile of gold.”

“So the plan is…?”

“Give it all away, yup. Well technically not all of it.” He straightened up from his slouched position and leaned forward. “After the mess with Patel’s contract, I decided it was time to find some new lawyers. Should have dumped the firm my father sent me to years ago. Turns out my original trust should never have even been under the control of my father’s will. It’s money my mom left me. It’s not close to the Merlyn Global money but enough to make sure I don’t have to worry about getting financing.”

“And the rest?”

“I have a few years to figure out if I want to set up my own foundation or just use something like QC’s, but I’m going to make sure something good comes from it. Something my mom would have wanted.”

“Oh, so you are going back to school to become a doctor?”

“Very funny.”

“Still get light headed at the site of blood?”

“Only the red kind. But I think maybe expanding the free clinic is where I’ll start. I wouldn’t have to wait on that. Hell, when the money comes in, maybe I’ll build a free hospital.”

“Your dad would have hated that.”

Tommy smiled. “He would, wouldn’t he?” Then he sobered. “He turned into a monster, or maybe he always was one, but my mom, she was great, right?” There was a wistful note to his question, like he no longer trusted his judgement.

“Yes, she was,” Oliver confirmed. He had very few memories of Rebecca Merlyn, but they were all good. Tommy nodded, blinking a few times.

“Then there’s hope for me yet. I spent most of my life trying to make my dad proud. Even after he died. But I was trying to honor the wrong parent. I might never be a doctor, but I’ll make sure this money is used to save lives, not take them. That would make Mom proud.”

“She’d want you to take time to be happy too.”

“I’ll get there. In the meantime,” Tommy slapped Oliver on the back, “at least one of us has the work/life balance figured out.”

“Do I?”

“Don’t you? I know you said you haven’t decided if you’ll stay in charge for the next phase of the Initiative, but I thought things were going good with Felicity.”

“They are but…there’s the question of commitment.”

“God, tell me you didn’t sleep with her sister!”

Oliver scowled at him.

Tommy threw his hands up in surrender. “Hey, just saying!”

***

Felicity’s accusation hung in the air, but Moira didn’t appear upset. She paused for a moment as if considering it.

“A bribe?” She pursed her lips and then shook her head. “No, I wouldn’t call it that. Your company may be in its fledgling state, but you are more than qualified to handle the contract and I feel it only fair to offer some…compensation for the harm you have suffered in association with this family.”

“Harm?” Was this what it was like to grow up in the Queen household, every experience given a price tag? Every problem monetized and paid off?

“Damage has been inflicted to your reputation, your career, very nearly to your person and no matter how clean an affair ends; some bruised feelings remain. I…I would like to maintain our association.”

“After Oliver moves on, you mean,” Felicity scoffed. “I thought the payoff was so I left him.”

“I don’t know what his plans are for Starling City, but how he’s made you feel”—pity, free of malice, softened Moira’s face—“I’ve seen this before. This is why his college girlfriend, kept coming back despite knowing about the other girls. He can make anyone he’s with feel like the most important part of his world. He has his father’s natural charm.” Her expression closed off. Frown lines she paid regular sums to erase sprang into harsh definition around her mouth. When she spoke, she seethed. “Robert and his charm landed him a mistress he set up in an apartment across town before our second wedding anniversary.”

Felicity winced. The rumor mill at Queen Consolidated had been full of stories about the former CEO’s affairs, but she’d dismissed most as gossip. Confused and unsettled, she repositioned her glasses on the bridge of her nose. “I thought you were happy with Robert.” 

Moira nodded succinctly as if there was no conflict. “Robert was a solid match. Clever in business. Devoted to our children. We made excellent partners.”

“And love?” Its absence on the list was pointed.

Moira dropped her gaze, fidgeting again with the strap of her bag. Then, with studied carelessness, she waved her hand dismissively. “I was young. I soon shed my foolish fantasies. Love is a shaky foundation. I married Walter for love and it proved a far more fleeting union.”

Felicity bit her tongue to keep from asking if lying to Walter might have had anything to do with it. And then there was the averted kidnapping and later discovering his wife had ordered a hit. 

”Make no mistake, Robert, in his own way, loved me as I did him. He was devoted to his family, but…he wasn’t built for fidelity. Once we came to an understanding, we worked well together.” Moira purposely paused. “Oliver is very much his father’s son.” 

Felicity stiffened. That wasn’t the man she knew. But she didn’t really believe this was about Oliver, it was about her being with Oliver. “You didn’t mean a word of your apology. You said exactly what you really think of me, didn’t you? You think you need to rescue your son from my gold-digging clutches.”

Moira shook her head sorrowfully. “You misunderstand. I’m not here to save my son from you; I’m trying to save you from him.”

Felicity drew back, suddenly wishing there was a place to sit down. She was speechless for a moment and then finally simply shook her head. “I don’t understand.” 

Moira stepped closer and took Felicity’s hands in hers.

“I thought this liaison would come to a natural conclusion like Oliver’s past entanglements. I was content to wait, but I’ve spoken to Thea. I see now you need to end it before he has the power to break your heart.” She gently brushed back a strand Felicity’s hair that had come loose from her ponytail. “Though maybe, I’m already too late.”

Felicity froze. A second later there was a roaring in her ears and then she was hot all over. She shook her head again, not even certain what she was denying. She stepped back, shaking off Moira’s touch. Moira continued undeterred. 

“You have become very dear to Thea and to myself and there is nothing I would have liked more than to see you become a permanent member of our family, but I can’t put my selfishness in front of your happiness. Robert put this family first in many ways, but being faithful was not in his make-up, nor is it in Oliver’s. I learned to accept that. I fear it isn’t possible for you.”

She was wrong about Oliver. Wrong about the man he’d become. Wrong about so much. Felicity shook her head. “No. You’re wrong.” 

Moira’s eyes widened in surprise. 

“You are saying you _could_ see the potential in such an alliance? That opens up possibilities.” A gleam came to her eye. “There would still be the hurdle of getting Oliver to the point of commitment. He was always resistant to that sort of thing. And not just because of his wild habits. He’s not unkind. As convenient as he found it, part of him would have preferred not having a formal girlfriend during high school and college, but I encouraged him in that direction. I believe it gave him more stability.”

It took a moment for Felicity to understand what Moira was talking about. “Oliver isn’t that person anymore.”

Moira nodded, considering but too caught up in her plans to comprehend. “That’s true; he has already embraced more responsibility since he’s been away. Perhaps he is closer to being ready than I thought. If we worked together, this could be locked down in no more than a couple years.” 

“Lock what down?” She was completely confused now.

“Your marriage, of course, dear. Depending on a few inducements, perhaps even sooner.”

Felicity looked at her slack jawed. “A minute ago you were warning me away from Oliver.”

“I thought I made myself clear. I was worried about you getting hurt. That was when I assumed you wouldn’t be open to a more practical arrangement.”

“Arrangement? No. No. I won’t be part of anything like that, but you’re wrong about Oliver. He’s not who you think he is. He is not his father.” 

Once again, Moira gazed at her in pity. “I would dearly like to believe you, if only for your own sake, but fairy tales are for children.” 

****

Oliver continued to scowl at Tommy. “No. I did not sleep with her sister,” he gritted through his teeth. Not that Felicity had a sister. “I did not cheat on Felicity. I would never…” It struck him how much he’d changed since he last left Starling City. The thought of taking the trust and faith she had in him and betraying it was…unthinkable. He shook his head. “It’s Felicity’s commitment to this relationship I’m worried about.”

“Felicity? Did she sleep with _your _sister?”

Oliver pointed his finger at him. “That’s not funny.”

“Oh, it kind of is.”

Oliver shot him hard look. 

“Fine, being serious now. So just what’s the real problem?”

Oliver was silent for a moment, uncertain how to explain. “This was supposed to be short term. When I got here, I agreed to stay only for a couple months and Felicity made it very clear she couldn’t wait until this mess with my family was out of the way so she could do what she really wanted.”

“Ah, yes, starting her company.”

“She made it extra clear how very, very busy she was going to be once that happened.” He slugged back the rest of his beer. Tommy shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t see the problem if short term is what you both wanted.”

“I didn’t know what I wanted. So much has happened since. So much has changed…for me. For Felicity…” He shook his head. “Felicity is brilliant. She’s going to do amazing things. I don’t want to get it the way of that. Not,” he said with a sigh, “that I think anyone could.”

“And now your commitment to the Initiative is over, she’s busy picking out an office, and you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop. Ouch.”

“See, this is where you are supposed to offer reassurances that she isn’t getting ready to dump me.”

“I’d like to, but I’ve been listening to plans about her company a lot longer than you have. Yeah, there’s no getting in the way of that. Though if that’s the only problem, you could probably find some workarounds.”

“What do you mean only problem. What other problem would there be?”

“Well, there’s your last name.”

“What about it?”

“Did she ever tell you her nickname for your family? The Drama Queens. You guys are a lot of work.” 

“She adores Thea. Hell, if my mom ever bent her idiotic pride and apologized, Felicity would forgive her. As it is, she won’t even let me take sides.”

“Sure, she likes them. Felicity is willing to give everyone a chance. But don’t tell me she hasn’t complained how exhausting they are. Even I got lumped in with the rest of the family. Completely unfairly, of course.”

Oliver rolled his eyes, “Of course,” he agreed with heavy sarcasm. 

“Pretty sure that’s why she kept dodging me asking her out, didn’t want to take on another project. And you man, I mean, I love you, but you are way bigger of a fixer upper than I am. And I’m pretty sure Felicity is ready to retire from the Queen family rehab business.”


	35. Chapter 35

Felicity left the 6th Street office location, unwilling to stay another minute even if it meant leaving without signing the lease. The apartment on loan from Palmer Tech was downtown so she walked the few blocks in a blur, alternatively fuming and close to tears. Oliver wasn’t back yet and she needed every minute before he returned to the apartment to get her emotions back under control. 

Nothing really had changed in her relationship with Oliver, but Moira’s assumptions pulled the rug out from under hers. Or maybe just forced her to admit how precarious her relationship was with Oliver. She thought by making it clear there were no expectations, she was being smart, safe. But she left Moira’s apology session feeling foolish and naïve. 

She was neither of those things. Moira was wrong. But she was also in her head. 

Moira was still in her head a few hours later at the official ceremony to celebrate the completion of phase one of the Queen Memorial Initiative—the shortened name was quietly adopted shortly after the video of Robert grappling with the Glades councilman was posted. 

Felicity applauded along with the crowd in front of the Freitas Four. The worn but cozy trailer where she and Oliver spent weeks overseeing the project was gone and in its place was a medium sized stage zealously decorated with red, white and blue bunting. The Mayor snipped a pair of oversized gold scissors through a red ribbon and then turned to shake hands with Moira, Oliver, and Thea. Other top donors quickly swarmed to do the same. 

Oliver smiled, shook hands and took photos with them all before he stepped offstage. Again he was surrounded, this time by residents of the Glades, vendors, and others on the crew. He even took the time to charm the reporters and film crews that apparently were an inevitable presence when you were Starling City royalty. And why shouldn’t they reach out to touch him? He was their fallen prince returned to his throne. 

Did they even know he wasn’t that same thoughtlessly selfish boy they’d once tracked in the tabloids? She wasn’t sure they cared or even remembered they’d been a part of what chased him out of town. If his own mother hadn’t learned to separate who her son had once been, why should she expect anyone else to?

Moira was wrong about Oliver. Felicity was unsure Moira ever really knew her son. Under no circumstance, past or present, could she imagine him _wanting_ an “arrangement” for a marriage, but now, he’d doubly abhor it. He’d never stomach the lies and games required to make it happen. Oliver valued—craved even—loyalty, trust and the one thing he had the hardest time expecting back, love. 

And yet, Oliver wanting love and a real partnership someday didn’t mean he wanted them with her. Like her, he’d made no promises and asked for none in return. They had something special between them, but in the last few months, Oliver’s life had been turned upside down. What if what he most wanted now was to be on his own? Back in control of his space, his future?

They’d sort of skipped the dating part before moving in together. It shouldn’t have worked, but they got along well. Whatever adjustments they’d had to make for each other had been relatively minor. But what if the adjustment had been simple because he didn’t plan on having to put up with her less awesome habits for very long? 

No. 

Long term or short term, Felicity didn’t believe he’d pretend like that. He wouldn’t lie to her. It’s not like they hadn’t had disagreements, but they’d worked through them. The sex was amazing, but she actually liked being with Oliver the rest of the time as well. He cared. She knew he did. She wasn’t imagining it. But did he feel the way about her that she did him? 

Moira got one thing right; it was too late to get out with her heart unscathed. But if she ended things now, she could leave with her pride. What if that was his plan? Oliver had let her take the lead in so many aspects of their relationship, could he expect her to initiate the breakup as well?

She closed her eyes against the sharp pain the question brought. She was weary from all the “what ifs” that had her second guessing everything. She wished they could just keep going as they had, but that was unrealistic. Some changes needed to come now. She’d never planned to stay as long as they had at the Palmer Tech apartment. Once Smoak Technologies was officially up, she wouldn’t have time for apartment hunting. At least the sale of her townhouse went through. It was past time to find a new place to live. 

But what did that search look like? Assuming Oliver was even planning to stay in Starling, would they look for a place separately or together? If they got their own places, did that automatically mean a breakup? Would she even consider moving backwards? The thought of losing him by increments made her sick to her stomach.

She searched the crowd looking for Oliver. The camera crew and most of the crowd had moved on to tour the four unit building, but she found Oliver waylaid by his mother over by the stage. 

They were too far away to hear anything and she could only see them from the side, but Moira was obviously intent on saying her peace, whatever it was. Oliver’s stiff shoulders and burrowed brow said her message wasn’t welcome, but that didn’t exactly narrow down the topic under discussion. However, when Moira paused and glanced her way, Felicity knew she was the subject. 

She went stock still. Oh God, what if Moira was stubbornly pitching an “arrangement?” Was that better or worse than preaching to Oliver to end things? Or asking him to give Felicity time to take that step herself? She cringed and turned away. 

A minute later, Oliver was beside her. His expression was unreadable, but he radiated frustration. “I shook the last hand I have patience to shake. If we go now, I can be gone before they come back and start lining up all over.”

She frowned, surprised at his appearance. Misreading her expression, he backtracked.

“Unless you want to stay. Up to you.” He offered but there was no doubt that he wanted to be gone. She was in no mood to mingle either. 

“No.” She shook her head. “We can go.”

The drive back to the apartment was quick and quiet. She couldn’t tell if he was brooding on his own thing or just picking up on her mood. He parked in the underground ramp and was halfway around the truck to help her out, something that had become an automatic habit when she wore narrow skirts. In a surge of independence, she quickly opened her door and risked sliding out. Oliver stopped. For just a moment, she could have sworn he looked dismayed and then his expression went blank. Immediately, she regretted her impulse. If he was ready to break things off, why was she rushing past her last moments with him? She should be savoring each final touch, not practicing life without him. 

She couldn’t get the moment back so she awkwardly joined Oliver and then they headed to the elevator. Before they entered, both of their phones alerted. They exchanged worried frowns. Oliver had his out of his pocket first. He relaxed.

“It’s just a message from building maintenance.”

“Mine too.” What did it say about their time together that they’d both assumed impending disaster? “Elevator will be down for essential maintenance between 10 AM and 12 PM tomorrow,” she finished reading off the screen. Oliver eyed the waiting elevator. 

“Essential maintenance. Doesn’t inspire a ton of confidence right now.”

“Fifteen flights of stairs give me all the inspiration I need.” Still, Felicity cautiously looked inside, hesitating for a moment and then pointing to the corner camera. “The red light is out.” She pulled up the program on her phone that tapped into the building’s security feeds and confirmed her guess. She nodded. “The camera in the elevator is out. So no risk of plunging to our doom.” 

They entered and Oliver pressed their floor number. The tension between them seemed to have been broken. It was a relief to be talking again, even if it was just over mundane things. Oliver turned his head toward her. “I should have asked earlier. Did you want me to run and get something to eat? Or I could throw together an omelet.”

Her heart ached. He was always so sweet about making sure she ate, something she often neglected. That he was kind of a fantastic cook made up for his healthy eating habits. He let her help prep sometimes but quickly took over the bulk of the kitchen duties. Called it self defense. The fire alarm had only gone off the one time but since it had triggered a building wide evacuation, she was willing to let him have his way. 

She shook her head. The knots in her stomach made thinking of food impossible. “No, I don’t think I’m hungry.” 

He accepted her answer with a nod, falling silent again. He cleared his throat and shifted his weight, eyeing the rising floor count impatiently. What was he in a hurry for? Had his chat with Moira convinced him to just rip the bandage off and get it over with? What if this was their last night? They needed to talk, but when they talked, she risked it being over. Imagining it gutted her. 

Breathing deeply, she pushed her anxiety down. The lift wasn’t large and she suddenly was hyper aware of how close Oliver stood. She inhaled his comforting scent. He’d used the body wash she’d purchased for him. It reminded her of the woods where they first met. The combination of cedar and pine mixed wonderfully with something musky and just Oliver. She felt her body swaying toward his like a magnet pulled to steel. 

She’d desired that body the first moment Oliver came into view, leaning shirtless against the rough, wood hewn walls of the cabin. Now that she knew every line and cord; every muscle, callus, and scar beneath his hot, taut skin; her yearning for him had only increased. But it had never simply been lust. Even when at his most frustrating, he drew her. Desire she could have resisted, but something about Oliver Queen had tugged at her heart from the start, stealing beneath her defenses. And now she had no defenses.

As if he felt the pull of her stare, Oliver lifted his endlessly blue eyes to hers. Something in her face must have spoken her desires and instantly, he responded. Captivated, she watched his eyes darken, his pupils widening into dark pools like the space between stars. Her body responded, tightening, becoming more aware of the weight of the fabric against her skin. Her heart sped up.

Suddenly restless, she shifted. The lace cup of her bra scraped against her nipples and she sucked in a quick breath before wetting her lips.

Oliver swallowed, the muscles of his throat working lightly beneath dark stubble that she knew was surprisingly soft to the touch. He now used a conditioning balm just to avoid chafing her skin. So much of what he did every day reflected his careful consideration of her needs. Even if she’d been too afraid to say it, was it any wonder she fell deeper in love with him every day? 

Unable to resist, she raised her hand to his face, skimming down the side of his cheek before lightly tracing her fingertips along the edge of his stubbled jaw. Her thumb played delicately over the corner of his mouth. 

Oliver captured her hand with his, stilling it against his face. She looked into his eyes and felt the breath knocked out of her. Oliver’s need was fierce and raw and immediate. Her palm tingled. Her whole body tingled. Heat gathered low in her stomach; a deep, steady pulse between her legs. She shivered.

There was so much focus and intensity in his eyes it should have scared her, but she wanted him with as much passion. As if a starting gun went off, they lunged at each other. 

Her arms hooked about his neck and his wound tightly around her back. Leaning down to meet her lips, Oliver dipped her slightly backward, leaving her dizzy as she poured out all her need and worry into their ravenous kiss. It wasn’t enough. It didn’t matter where they were; she needed to feel all of him. 

Now.

Sharing her urgency, Oliver—while never taking his lips from hers—reached out his arm and blindly slapped at the shiny panel on the wall. On his second try, he connected with the correct button and the elevator abruptly stopped. A buzzer went off which she easily ignored; she barely noted the noise over the mad pounding of her heart and the thrumming of the hot blood throbbing through her veins. 

Their kiss was life and left her gasping for breath. Oliver banded both of his arms around her again, this time lifting her off her feet, leaving her right high heel behind. He flipped them around so she was now fully upright and her back against the wall with Oliver plastered to her front. It was heaven and hell. Oliver’s taste and scent and heat consumed her; his touch teased everything within his reach leaving behind trails of pleasure. But the narrow cut of her skirt kept the pleasure trails restricted. 

She whimpered against his mouth, and somehow understanding, Oliver’s magic hands briefly stopped their exploration, tugging up her skirt until it was bunched around her waist. Then his hands were back, hot against her skin; his palms cupping her ass; his nimble fingers slipping teasingly underneath the lines of her panties to knead her naked flesh. 

Already balancing on the remaining shoe, Felicity lifted her right leg high on Oliver’s thigh, opening herself up to him more. Trapped in his trousers, Oliver ground his hard, hot shaft against her center and she whimpered again for a much different reason, melting in bliss as contact centered perfectly against her throbbing clit. 

She tipped her head back, breathing hard. “Oliver,” she panted out his name, sinking her fingers into the softly curling hair at the back of his head. He buried his face against the curve of her neck, the heat of his breath washing over her skin, leaving it hot and humid. 

“Oliver,” she said his name again. “Hurry,” she urged, unsuccessfully tugging at his belt. He took over, keeping her pinned to the wall with his upper body while his hands moved between them. He undid his belt, the top button, and zipper and then in one move shoved his pants and boxers down just low enough to free himself.

She felt him against her stomach, burning like a thick brand. She pressed forward, eliciting a low grunt from Oliver. Then one strong hand was beneath her thigh, adjusting her higher so the foot left on the ground barely touched. His other hand was still between their bodies. He slipped his fingers beneath the silky edges of her drenched panties, tracing the seam of her body, back and forth, and then deeper, just long enough to confirm she was more than ready. She felt the elastic of her underwear stretched to the side and then the blunt, hot, heat of his cock pressed to her entrance. She bit her lip to keep from once again begging him to hurry. 

For a moment, he felt bigger than normal; she bit her lip at the slight resistance before her body stretched to accept his heavy length. Trusting him to keep her from falling, she raised her other leg off the ground and squeezed her thighs around his hips, pressing her face to his shoulder as he slowly, inexorably filled her. She practically came on the spot, her breathy gasps sprinkled over his heavy groan. They clung to each other, living in the moment, breathing in the connection just a few seconds before their bodies demanded they move. 

He slowly withdrew and then surged powerfully back into her. She clutched his shoulders, nails digging into his shirt, face pressed to his chest, her eyes practically rolled back in her head; it felt so good. He followed up that first hard thrust with another and then set off on a relentless pace designed to push them over the edge fast. 

Every time he hammered home, euphoric sparks erupted. Tension and pleasure spiked higher and higher until it was almost unbearable. It snapped. She arched against Oliver as wave after wave of ecstatic bliss crested and flowed. 

Oliver swallowed her cry in a kiss, never faltering from his pace. The shocks of delight wouldn’t stop, she milked him as he pounded into her, his thrusts growing uncontrolled. Again, the waves crested over her head and everything in her tightened and tensed. Oliver roared as he came, his hips jerkily stuttering as he emptied himself into her. 

They sagged into each other, letting pulses slow, catching their breath. After a moment, the constant buzzing that a little while ago they’d so easily ignored intruded. If that persistent annoyance wasn’t enough, the emergency phone within the elevator panel suddenly rang. 

“We are not answering that,” Felicity firmly instructed. Oliver gave her a quick kiss and eased back, setting her on her feet. 

“Then we better make our exit fast.”

Quickly they set about righting their clothing. Oliver waited to hit the release button until she was unsteadily leaning against the wall and slipping her last heel back on. They began to move. She was still smoothing her impossibly wrinkled skirt as the elevator reached their floor.

They were lucky and no one was waiting on their landing, but when the rush of fresh air from the hallway met them, it made her too aware of the musky scent of their lovemaking permeating the lift. She reached into her bag and pulled out the only thing that might help and spritzed the space twice before she exited. 

“Minty.” A smile played on Oliver’s lips and laughter danced in his eyes. 

“It was that or pepper spray.”

“Good choice.”

Oliver steered them toward their unit. They stepped inside the apartment just as the door to the stairwell started to open. He quickly shut the apartment door but a minute later there was a knock at the door. Her eyes darted to Oliver. He frowned but moved to answer the door even after she frantically gestured for him not to. He swung open the door and there was their building manager. She died a little on the spot, but Oliver played it cool.

“Good evening Sanderson.”

“Good evening to you too, Mr. Queen, Ms. Smoak.”

“What can we do for you?”

“I was coming up the stairwell, there was a problem with the elevator—“

“Right, essential repair tomorrow.”

“Yes, well this seems unrelated. I noticed you just getting home and wondered—“

“If we’d seen the group of teens coming off the elevator? I think I’ve seen them around before, but I don’t think they live in the building.”

“Teens?”

“Teens.”

“Did you get a good look at them?”

“Can’t say that I did. I was in the hall dropping garbage in the chute, heard them coming off the elevator, laughing. Just caught the backs of their heads as they rushed by toward the other stairwell. Maybe you can still catch them.” 

The Super glanced down the hall. 

“Thanks. If you see them again, give me a call.”

“I can do that. You have a good night,” he said and shut the door. Felicity let out her breath. 

“Do you think he believes you?”

Oliver drew her into his arms.

“He’s not going to say differently and that’s what matters.”

She looped her hands around his neck. 

“How can you be so sure? If he checks the cameras down on the garage level, he’s going to figure it out.”

“I’m guessing you can make sure that never happens.”

She laughed and then pulled away to grab her phone and flipped through the screens. “Oh, it’s our lucky day. The camera issue extends to the garage as well.”

He slowly reeled her back into his arms and started walking them back toward the bedroom. “I guess that means there should be no more interruptions tonight.”

“Oh, did you have some activity in mind you didn’t want interrupted?”

“I had some thoughts.” He leaned down and kissed her. Warmth surged in her veins. She wasn’t surprised. She didn’t think she’d ever get enough of him. 

“Mmh. She hummed. “Good thoughts. Although, thinking can on occasion be overrated.”

“You think so?” he asked as he swept her up in his arms and began to carry her through the apartment. 

“Ask me again later.”

***

Felicity rolled over in bed, burying her face in the pillow. God it was obscene how brightly the sun shone in the mornings. They must have left the blinds open when they’d gone to bed early. Not that there had been much sleeping involved. She smiled as she gave in to waking up only to open her eyes to an empty bed. How late had she slept? She checked the clock and it was well after nine. 

She listened to the apartment and it was silent. For a second, the clear sign of an empty apartment left her with a sick feeling. She rolled out of bed, looking for answers. The scent of freshly brewed coffee hit her when she left the bedroom. Once she was in the kitchen, she found a post-it note stuck on the machine. 

_“Gone to meet John at the gym.”_

She crumpled it in her hand. She wasn’t upset he was at Wildcat’s. But for a moment when she realized she was alone, the crazy thought that he’d left for good flashed through her mind. Last night had been fantastic, but they’d resolved nothing. 

She poured the coffee in a travel mug she could bring with her into the bathroom while she got ready, taking a first sip before she secured the lid. It tasted as fresh as it smelled. Oliver probably wouldn’t be back for a couple hours at least, but the moment he came back, they were talking. Putting this off was ridiculous. And painful. 

After showering, she put on a pair of well-worn jeans and a bright top. The soft denim molded to her ass like a second skin and the neckline of deep red top was cut just a bit too low. She looked in the mirror and nodded; she’d take any advantage going into this chat. 

At a little before 10, there was a knock at the door. She unplugged her hair dryer and quickly applied her lipstick. There. She was ready to face the day. 

The knock came again. It wasn’t likely to be Oliver; it was too soon and he’d have used his key, though it was possible he’d forgotten it. Unlikely. Maybe Thea? Please, she thought as she walked to the door, don’t let it be Moira. She peeked through the peephole but didn’t see anyone waiting. Curious, she opened the door. She shouldn’t have. 

Felicity sighed and backed into the apartment. “Dammit. Why couldn’t you have been Moira?”


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, second to last chapter. :D

**Chapter 36**

Oliver hit the mat hard, the air rushing out of his lungs. John leaned down to offer him a hand up.

“You’re not paying attention. The second I went to sweep your leg, you should have immediately moved in to try and get me off balance. You know this. You knew this before we started training together.”

Oliver gingerly rose up. Diggle had got him good that time. “I wasn’t ready.”

“Obviously. You’ve been distracted from the moment you got here. What gives?”

He shook his head. “We don’t have to talk about this.”

Diggle grabbed a couple water bottles and a towel, using it to dab at the sweat glistening on his forehead. “Oh, we’re talking about this.” He threw the second bottle at Oliver and then sat on a tall stack of mats. With a sigh, Oliver joined him, uncapping his water and taking a long drink, stalling for time. All Dig did was look at him and wait. 

“Fine. So with the project over, I have a lot on my mind,” Oliver explained.

“I’d think with the project over, you’d have less.”

“It’s just,” he shook his head, “I need to make some decisions about my future.”

“Ah.”

“My mom wants me to lead all the future phases of the Initiative.”

Diggle took a swig of his own bottle and then asked, “What do you want?”

“I have some ideas. Ways to be doing more than just swooping into the Glades and putting up new homes and businesses like I have any clue what people living there really need. The Initiative is a start, but unless people have jobs to pay the rent and go shopping, it’s not enough.” 

“What are you thinking?”

“Roy.”

“Roy? I’ll assume you’re not counting up ways to kill him for dating your sister."

“I’ve been thinking of when he first came to me. He was desperate. All he wanted was a chance to learn. He picked most of it up on the job. I was thinking I could create more opportunities like that. Maybe through the Initiative or maybe something all on my own. It gave Roy a way out of the dead end life the Glades offered. The money and attention ready to be poured into the Glades needs to build up individuals, not just structures.”

“Sounds like a great idea to me. The kind of thing others could copy and expand on even. So what’s stopping you from starting?”

“I haven’t decided if I’m staying.”

John smirked. “Felicity’s company is going to be based in Starling City, where else would you be?”

“That’s assuming she wants me around.”

Diggle lost his grin. He put down the water bottle and the towel and crossed his arms—his very muscled arms. He studied him. 

“You going to tell me why Felicity would no longer want you around?” The question carried more than a hint of menace. 

“You can put the guns away. The last thing I want to do is hurt Felicity.”

“And yet you’re talking walking away from her. I didn’t take you for stupid.”

“I don’t want to go anywhere.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“What if I’m not what she wants?”

John laughed. 

Oliver shot him a sour look and the laughter faded even if the amusement didn’t.

“Oh, you’re not joking. Look, I admit I had some reservations about you when Felicity dragged you back, but I’ve gotten to know you since and I’ve seen how Felicity looks at you.”

“What about her company? I don’t want her to give it up to make room for me.”

“You think her heart and mind aren’t big enough to make room for both?”

“What about me?”

“What about you?”

“What if…what if I screw this up and break her heart?”

“Then you’d be breaking yours at the same time. Look, that guy they wrote about all those time in the tabloids, he’s not here to screw things up. And, man, listen, Felicity may not be great at hiding her feelings, but you, you don’t hide them at all, not about how you feel about Felicity. It’s written all over your face every time you even think of her. You love her, don’t you?”

“Love doesn’t seem big enough a word.” As sincerely as he meant it, Oliver waited for Dig’s laughter. He got a clap on the back instead. John nodded solemnly. 

“No, when it’s right, it doesn’t. Seems to me, that alone should put things in perspective. Talk to Felicity. You’ll both feel better once you tell her how you feel.”

***

Felicity stepped back into the apartment, never taking her eyes off the gun leveled at her. Ashley Dickerson was supposed to be off in some place like the Cayman Islands but her pixie cut hair dyed a deep shade of red didn’t stop Felicity from recognizing the woman that had tried to kill her and Oliver.

“Keep backing up. Keep your hands where I can see them,” she ordered. 

In the months since Felicity had last seen her, her hair wasn’t the only thing that had changed. The assured, capable look in her eyes was replaced with something more brittle. She’d lost weight she hadn’t to spare, pulling the skin tightly across her cheekbones in a gaunt manner that was less high fashion and more Skeletor. The elegant, black suit she wore clearly had at some point been tailored to fit, but now it hung off her shoulders like Ashley was a wire hanger. Felicity had the urge to offer her a bagel. 

“That’s far enough. Sit down,” Ashley ordered with a head nod toward the light colored couch. Felicity sat while her captor closed and bolted the door. 

Felicity eyed her purse on the kitchen counter a few feet away. Her phone was in it. So was a bottle of pepper spray. But with a gun trained on her, both items might as well have been on the banquet level of the Queen Consolidated building. Pity today there were no handy plates to throw.

“Why are you here?” Felicity asked. She was genuinely puzzled. Could it be revenge? It was possible but at Verdant, Dickerson claimed the frame job hadn’t been personal. And wanting to kill them had been equally impersonal, simply tying up loose ends. Killing them now wouldn’t put the genie back in the bottle. The authorities could put Ashley Dickerson away using her own records against her. 

Ashley ignored her question. Instead, she moved swiftly through the apartment, verifying they were alone. She ducked briefly into the bedroom, too briefly for Felicity to do more than stand up and then quickly sit back down before Dickerson returned. 

Next her captor swung through the kitchen and again, Felicity stifled the urge to offer her food. The bagels were right there, cream cheese in the fridge along with yogurt or eggs. Felicity gave herself a mental shake. Was she losing her mind? This was a hostage situation, not brunch. 

Despite Felicity’s mental urging, Ashley did not grab anything to eat. She didn’t even pour herself any coffee. She did pause in front of the machine, smooth out the crumpled post-it from Oliver, and read it. She smiled. 

“I watched him leave with a gym bag, but confirmation is always nice. He spends hours at the gym when he goes.” 

A creepy, skittering feeling crawled over her skin. Ashley had been stalking them. Now the only thing she wanted to feed the woman was a poison apple. 

Felicity tried to hide her sudden rage. She coolly asked, “Do you plan on being here when he returns?” 

Ashley smiled again which confused her. If it was revenge she was after, wouldn’t she be impatient for Oliver’s return? Or maybe she planned to savor what was coming. Felicity thought she might really lose her mind if she was forced to sit and worry that long. She couldn’t let it get to that. 

“That depends on you.”

For a moment Felicity couldn’t recall what she was talking about. Right, Ashley waiting for Oliver or not. “What do you want from me?”

“It’s simple. Give me Malcolm Merlyn’s blackmail files and I will be on my way. I’ll have to tie you up while you wait for your man, but this whole thing can be a mere inconvenience if you choose so.” She smiled again, like a shark circling its prey before a strike. Insincerity oozed from her tone. But that wasn’t Felicity’s only worry.

In the wrong hands, the information in those files could be catastrophic. In Malcolm’s, they had almost resulted in the murder of thousands of innocent citizens. Whoever held those files could hold sway over the most powerful people, not just in Starling City, but also scattered across the country. She didn’t intend to let the guilty skate free, but she hadn’t combed through more than half, separating the criminal secrets from the merely crippling. 

Felicity shook her head and said what she’d told the police. “There are no files. I lied to you. I made it up to stall for time.” Ashley’s smile deepened. The look did not suit her. 

“You forget who you are talking to. I helped compile some of those files. They are real, but they were also Malcolm’s most guarded secret. For you to even know they exist proves you’ve seen them. So let’s try this again. Do you or do you not have them?” She cocked her gun. 

Further denial didn’t seem like an option. “Yes,” Felicity admitted. “I have Malcolm’s files.”

*** 

Oliver paused outside of Wildcat’s Gym, brows knitted, listening to his call finally go to Felicity’s voicemail.

“Something wrong?” Diggle asked, joining him on the sidewalk.

“No. Maybe. Felicity isn’t answering. You know she always answers her phone.”

“Maybe she’s in the shower or sleeping in late.”

“Maybe.”

“But you don’t think so.”

“I don’t have any reason to think there’s a problem.” But that wasn’t what the little voice at the back of his head was telling him. He was probably transferring his anxiety now that he was on his way home to lay it all on the line between them, but that didn’t help shake the feeling. 

Oliver pocketed his phone. “Can you give me a ride home?” Wildcat’s was only about six blocks from the apartment, so he’d walked but any extra second not knowing if Felicity was ok was too long. Diggle immediately pulled out the keys to his SUV. 

“Let’s go.”

***

Ashley relaxed her stance. “See, that wasn’t so hard, now was it? This next part won’t be hard either. Where are the files?” 

Before Felicity could answer, her phone rang inside her purse. Her eyes darted to it. Ashley carefully made her way around the counter and without taking her eyes off her hostage, reached inside and fished out Felicity’s phone. She dropped it on the floor and then with precision aim, stomped on it. Felicity winced. Sensible heels could do a lot of damage. The ringing warped and then stopped. 

Ashley flashed her barracuda grin. “Where were we? Ah, yes, you were about to tell me where the files are or your phone won’t be the only thing to get its face smashed in.”

“The red fob in the drawer by my laptop.” She nodded her head toward a desk in the corner of the room. 

Ashley moved that direction, the gun again staying focused the whole time. Did the woman’s arm move on a gyroscope?

Pulling open the center drawer, she easily found the red flash drive, snatching it up in triumph. Fine, Felicity thought. Let her savor her victory; it would be short lived. Ashley Dickerson wasn’t a trusting woman so she was certain to verify the content and that would give Felicity an opening. 

The laptop on the desk was the obvious choice. Either Ashley would try to verify it herself, in which case she was going to be very distracted trying to bypass the security, or she’d have Felicity do the verification. If that was the case, sending an S.O.S. would be a matter of a few keystrokes.

Dickerson pulled a compact device from a pocket. 

Felicity stifled a groan. A modified flash-drive reader. She’d have to find her window of opportunity elsewhere. She had a good idea where. 

Satisfaction settled on Ashley’s face when she first connected the memory stick only to suddenly vanish. She looked from the screen to Felicity and scowled. “What game are you trying to play? That can’t be more than half his files.”

More like an eighth. Malcolm Merlyn’s files were vast and complete. “For security reasons, I only brought home a section.”

“Where’s the rest of it?”

“I have a secure place where I keep my servers.” 

“So you can download what I need.”

She shook her head. “Not from here. Sensitive information like Malcolm’s files, those stay offline. No internet connection.” No one can hack what they can’t access.

Ashley cocked her gun. “Where are your servers?”

“Not far. A facility downtown.”

“Address,” Dickerson demanded.

“I’ll tell you, but you’ll have to take me with.”

“How about I persuade you to tell me all I’ll need to know instead.” 

“Some things I can’t tell you. Biometric lock. DNA _and_ retinal scan. If you want to get past the door, you need me.”

“Biometrics?” She shook her head in disbelief. “What the hell do you keep on those servers?”

“My future,” she said, but for once, the words rang hollow. The servers held everything she’d created for Smoak Technologies, but she wanted more from her future than a company. Loving Oliver wasn’t a distraction from her dream; it opened her dream up to a life bigger than she’d been able to previously imagine. But if Ashley had her way, there’d be no tomorrow. The moment she got the files she’d do what she always did. Tie up loose ends.

Ashley pressed her mouth into a hard line. Her grip tightened on the pistol until her knuckles went white. “Looks like we’re going on a fieldtrip.”

*** 

Oliver growled in frustration and disconnected his phone. Diggle glanced briefly from the road.

“What’s up?”

“Her phone’s not even ringing anymore. Straight to voicemail.”

“Did you get in a fight? Could she be blocking your calls?”

“No and no. Can’t you drive faster?” he asked impatiently. 

“Take a breath man. Maybe her battery died,” Diggle suggested even as he accelerated around a BMW to make sure he made it through a yellow light. “Just hold on. We’ll be there in a minute.”

*** 

While Felicity slipped on a pair of flats, Ashley laid down some ground rules. They’d head directly to the stairwell to start navigating the fifteen flights down to the parking ramp where they’d take Felicity’s car to the server’s facility. If they met anyone on their way, it was up to Felicity to decide if her neighbors survived or not. 

“I promise you, one suspicious move or look and their life is forfeit. You understand?”

“Perfectly.” 

Ashley gestured toward the door. “Let’s go.”

*** 

Diggle’s SUV had barely stopped in front of the apartment building when Oliver threw open the door and leapt out. That feeling that something was very wrong was only getting stronger but at the back of his mind, he also knew he might be about to make a complete fool of himself. He didn’t care if he did. He just needed to get to her. In the entryway, he was forced to slow down long enough punch the code to the lobby. It gave Diggle time to catch up. 

When John started toward the elevator, Oliver caught his arm and shook his head. “Elevator’s down. The stairs,” he said rushing that direction. Behind him, John muttered to himself. 

“Guess I’m not skipping cardio after all.”

*** 

“I’m curious about something,” Felicity began as she reached the 12th floor landing, stumbling just a little bit on the final step. The flats she kept in the front closet for things like carrying the garbage to the chute were adorable—a replacement pair for the previously desecrated panda faced flats—but cuteness couldn’t compensate for their lack of tread. Which was what she tried to explain the first time she slipped. Ashley’s twitchy finger nearly blew her head off for the small accident. Her shuffle this time still resulted in Ashley immediately and painfully jabbing the pistol’s muzzle in her back until she started moving again. 

She made a show of tightly grasping the railing as she continued from the landing to the next set of stairs. As she descended, she scanned the stairwell for anything helpful. Ashley bragged of taking care of all the security cameras last night, totally missing the irony of why they were walking down fifteen flights. The stairwell time provided more time to fashion a plan, but the echoing space was pretty much the universal, bare-bones combo of metal and concrete, hardly of any help. The grayish-blue treads and railings were no doubt painted to match the Palmer Tech logo, a subtle reminder of who owned the building. If she survived this, she had several security upgrades ready to pitch Ray, starting with redundant surveillance.

If there was nothing she could use as a distraction, she’d have to make her own. Any move had to happen before she was hustled into the close confines of her car. It would be even worse after the short drive to the very private facility where she kept her servers. Most visits she never saw a soul and while the layers of security she’d added were formidable at keeping others out, naively she hadn’t planned on being marched in at gunpoint to open it herself.

“Careful,” Ashley warned, “your curiosity is what got you to this point.” 

She wasn’t wrong, but in for a penny. 

“How exactly did you become Malcolm’s…ah…fixer at such an incredibly young age? No offence,” she quickly added, “I’m sure you were totally qualified at your job, but it’s not exactly the obvious career path fresh out of college.”

Ashley gave a short laugh. “Call it the family business.”

“Your family worked for Malcolm?”

“My father. I interned all through college. I graduated and took over for my father after he was retired.”

“Retired as in…” Felicity made a throat slitting motion.

“What? Of course not. He lives on a tropical island and gives scuba lessons in his spare time. He had a plan. I had a plan too. I would have been set until early retirement if Merlyn hadn’t foolishly gotten on the bad side of the Triad. Some things no one can fix. But I didn’t give up. I rebuilt my business, one client at a time.”

For a moment, Felicity had an eerie sense of disconnect. Under other circumstances, this was where she’d offer praise to a fellow female professional trying to make her mark. Instead she asked, “Was George Patel special or do you often end up killing your clients?” Ashley seemed unfazed by the question.

“It takes instinct to survive. He was becoming unhinged.”

Thinking of what Patel had done to her original pair of panda flats, Felicity couldn’t disagree. “Even so, he can’t have been the first client of yours not accessing all his logic circuits.” Ashley made a noise like a stifled hyena. 

“Oh the stories I could tell, but this was different. He became obsessed with the video feeds. It stopped being about getting the answers we needed. He began to talk with this maniacal look in his eyes about all the ways he could kill you. And then one day, I saw the same off kilter gleam when he was looked at me.”

“He was planning on killing you.”

“If he’d succeeded, he wouldn’t have stopped with me or you. I don’t care if he had deep-seated mommy issues. The world didn’t need another serial killer. Monsters. Every one of them.”

Felicity scoffed.

“What?” Ashley demanded.

“You don’t see that as at all hypocritical? I read your records. You were responsible for more deaths—including my IT supervisor—than any average serial killer.”

“I,” she emphasized, “am a professional. What I do is nothing like those psychopaths.”

“Not from where I’m standing,” Felicity muttered under her breath.

On the next step, her foot slipped again and she only just stopped momentum from pitching her down the stairs.

Ashley waited until she was done flailing and then barked, “Enough talking. Pay attention to walking.”

“If we slowed down, I might not slip.”

“Just keep moving.”

Despite her order to stop talking, Dickerson didn’t. 

“IT guy. Kaplan, right?”

“Yes.” Her feet suddenly felt extra heavy. Merely hearing his name weighed her down with guilt. “I’m surprised you remember him.”

“I remember the ones foolish enough to try blackmailing the Magician.”

It took Felicity a moment to connect the nickname to Merlyn, after all, wouldn’t Wizard have been the more obvious choice? When she did, she stopped walking. “Wait, you’re saying Kaplan went after Malcolm?” 

The gun nudged her in the back to keep going. She did but she held her breath waiting for confirmation. 

“If the Kaplan had asked to be put on the payroll, he probably would have gotten his pot of gold. The man pulled off a near miracle recovering data from a bullet ridden computer. His extraordinary skills outweighed the small nuisance he’d helped Walter Steele become. But threats? No, Mr. Merlyn didn’t care for that at all.”

Felicity was stunned into the silence Ashley had earlier demanded. She felt lightheaded. It wasn’t her fault. Her actions didn’t get her boss killed. Malcolm had assumed Derek Kaplan helped Walter do his digging, but he hadn’t died because of it or her work on the laptop. He’d died because of his own greed. 

She was still coming to grips with the truth as they reached the 7th floor landing. Maybe that was why the pounding footsteps reverberating up from below seemed to come out of nowhere. From the racket, it was at least two people racing toward them. Ashley’s hand shot out and grabbed her arm. She pulled her to the side, close to the wall, and hissed in Felicity’s ear. 

“You do or say anything, people die, got it?” 

Felicity nodded but glanced back at her captor. The gun was no longer pressed to her back but at Ashley’s side, ready to draw. Maybe this was the distracting she needed. She held her breath as the footsteps rapidly approached.

Ashley’s hands tightened on her upper arm, her fingertips digging into her flesh. A loud laugh punctuated the echo of feet bouncing against the cement. 

Kids. Frack. She didn’t dare move.

Felicity ceased breathing. Thirty seconds later, the voices and what sounded like a stampede of elephants arrived. Three pre-teen boys flew by, snickering and laughing uproariously as they started up the next flight. 

Ashley remained vigilant until the landing door a flight up loudly opened and then slammed shut, cutting off the sounds of carefree youth.

Silence hung in the air, almost shocking in the absence of noise. The blunt end of the gun once again nudged her in the back. 

“Let’s move.”

*** 

On the 15th floor, Oliver rushed down the hallway, coming to an abrupt stop outside his apartment door. They normally kept it locked but instinct had him trying the handle before reaching for his key. It opened easily. He took two steps in and froze. Felicity’s phone lay smashed on the floor and her purse dumped out on the counter. It was like the world dimmed before his eyes. Fear slammed into him as that panicked worry that had been chasing him up 15 flights of stairs became reality. For a moment, he felt like he might pass out.

Diggle moved around him, calling Felicity’s name. That snapped Oliver back. John disappeared down the hallway but Oliver knew in his gut he wouldn’t find Felicity in the apartment. A quick glance at the items spread on the counter confirmed her car keys were missing. He went into the kitchen.

The sticky note he’d left Felicity that morning lay crumpled up on the floor. The coffee pot was half empty but still hot. The black and steel travel thermos she often brought with her into the bathroom while she got ready in the morning was already rinsed out in the sink. Diggle returned.

“The place is empty,” he confirmed.

Oliver pointed to the emptied travel mug in the sink. “She had time to drink her coffee before she was taken. They couldn’t have been gone long.”

“Taken?” Diggle echoed, questioning the quick conclusion, but he didn’t argue against the evidence or waste time speculating by whom. Instead he focused on the immediate questions. “How did we miss her on the stairs? With the elevators down, is there any other way out of the building?”

Oliver swore loudly, pivoted out of the kitchen, and raced out the apartment, wasting no time explaining about the second stairwell at the other end of the building. He hadn’t been thinking, too intent on getting to Felicity to consider covering both exits. He pushed himself to move faster. The same gut feeling that had him rushing back to the apartment when Felicity hadn’t answered his calls now told him time was running out. 

***

Methodically, Felicity put one foot in front of the other, descending the stairs as slowly as she dared while her mind raced. Fewer than four flights of stairs were left before she reached the parking level with her captor closely dogging her every step. It was now or never and never wasn’t an option. She wanted the future she could have with Oliver too much to not at least try. 

When her foot touched the final step before the next landing, Felicity allowed it to slip, like she’d already done a half dozen times. In that split second, trained out of her trigger happy instinct, Ashley did exactly what Felicity had been hoping she’d do while Felicity lost her balance. 

Nothing. 

It took Dickerson a beat before she realized that this time, Felicity wasn’t going to catch herself and that moment was all Felicity needed to throw herself backward with all the momentum she could, crashing into Ashley and knocking her down hard against the unforgiving edges of the concrete steps.

“Omph!” Ashley’s breath whooshed out in a loud noise. Leading with her elbow, Felicity lurched up and slammed her body again into Ashley’s but when she twisted around, her captor still had the gun firmly in her grip. Felicity dove for it before Ashley could react, locking both her hands around Ashley’s wrist and forcing the barrel away from her. A shock of pain reverberated in her skull when the hand she hadn’t secured cuffed her on the back of the head. She held on but so did Dickerson. 

Ears still ringing, Felicity scooted roughly up Ashley’s body to gain leverage and slammed the hand she still controlled down hard on the corner of the step. And yet Ashley Dickerson held on. 

“Let go!” Felicity shouted, her heart pounding loudly in her head.

A scream of pure rage erupted from Ashley’s throat and she tried striking her again but Felicity’s new higher angle limited her reach so she switched tactics and yanked Felicity’s ponytail hard. Her neck snapped painfully back and tears stung her eyes but she refused to let up and blindly slammed the gun against the cement edge once again. 

Finally, it came loose, bouncing and skittering over the edge of the stairs, clanging loudly as it hit the rail below. 

“You bitch!” Ashley erupted beneath her but they both stilled when someone called from above.

“Felicity!!”

It was Oliver and not alone from the thunder of feet accompanying his voice. “Oliver!” She shouted back. 

Ashley pushed her aside and tried to make a break for the gun or maybe just freedom, but all those hours of self-defense classes kicked in and while it wasn’t exactly a clean leg sweep, Felicity thought the awkward kick she made still half sprawled on the stairs would have made Diggle proud. Dickerson went down face first onto the landing and before she could recover, Oliver was there with Diggle hot on his heels. 

It was over. 

Later Felicity learned the details of how John secured Ashley and even snagged the loose gun before marching both down to the lobby so he could get a cell signal and call the police, but all she paid attention to in the moment was the welcome sweep of Oliver’s warm embrace, pressing her to his chest and holding on like he was never planning on letting go. Her tricky tongue might have even said as much. 

“If that’s a question, you’re right, I’m never letting you go,” Oliver rasped against her ear. “When I realized someone had you…” His voice broke off and when he held on tighter, she did too, tears stinging her eyes. “I don’t care what we agreed to,” he said roughly. “Two months isn’t enough. A lifetime might not be enough.”

She laughed, a happy watery sound. “Careful, a girl might take that as a proposal.”

“If she’s smart, she should.”

Something electric went through her that left her breathless. She pushed back so she could look at him. “Oliver, are you serious?” Soft emotion filled his eyes. 

“I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. I love you. And it didn’t take two months for me to figure it out. Every moment with you leaves me wanting more time. I followed you back to Starling City and I’ve been looking for excuses to keep you close ever since. By the night of the gala, I hadn’t put a name to it, but looking back,” he paused and shook his head, “I can’t seem to remember not loving you.”

“Oh, Oliver.” It was all she could say. Her throat was too clogged with emotion for any other words. 

“I know you never planned on this being a serious relationship or being in any relationship when you launched your company. I understand how important Smoak Tech is to you. I promise I won’t stand in the way of your dreams, no matter what it takes.” 

“What are you saying?”

“I love you. That’s not going to change, so if you need me to step back, I’ll wait for you.”

She tried to process his offer. “You are saying you will put our relationship on hold and wait for me while I get my company off the ground?”

“Whatever it takes.”

“I don’t know what to say. Oh Oliver, that is such an incredibly…awful idea.”

The light started to go out of his eyes until she laughed softly and cupped his face in her hands. “Oliver, I love you. Everything happened so fast I’ve been afraid to ask if you felt the same way, but I don’t want to miss a second of the time we can have together.”

“But your company? It’s your dream.”

“I love you all the more for wanting to see my dreams come true, but dreams change. The only way mine become reality is if you are there with me every step along the way.”

Joy, tender and sure washed over his face. “I think I can get on that page,” he said with a curved smile. Her heart jumped. She’d said something like that to him that night at the pool and then again at the hospital. Each time they’d agreed to two months. This time, he offered her forever. It was the deal of a lifetime. She pulled him in for a kiss and sealed their new bargain. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note:
> 
> We are coming close to the end. The final chapter will be posted this coming weekend. I'm sad and excited. Thanks so much to all my readers.


	37. Chapter 37

Felicity checked her emails while she patiently waited in a private booth at Moira Queen’s favorite 6th Street Bistro. She’d made the reservations herself that morning and then at eleven, called Priya to extend the invitation to Moira. Not surprisingly she had been informed the CEO of Queen Consolidated already had an appointment for lunch.

“Tell Moira she will have to reschedule. You can let her know this is a one-time offer. If she isn’t there at noon, I will assume she has no further interest in being an active part of her son’s life.” Then Felicity hung up. Less than a minute later, her phone rang. She let it go to voicemail. She also ignored the slew of texts that followed close on the call’s heels. 

At a quarter to twelve, Felicity arrived at the Bistro and allowed the maître d’ to lead her to the table she’d reserved. Promptly at noon, Moira arrived. She ordered an herbal tea before she sat, waited until the hostess left, and then launched the opening volley. 

“You’re ultimatum certainly had Priya worked up. I’d expect this little piece of theater from my son or daughter, not you.”

It was meant to be a set down, but it made Felicity smile. “Seeing as I am about to become a Queen myself, perhaps it’s fitting.”

Moira took in her news without blinking. “Are you saying you’ve changed your mind about my help with Oliver?”

Felicity shook her head. “No. I’m letting you know Oliver proposed and I said yes.”

Moira’s eyebrows swept up. “So soon? Are you pregnant? In this day and age a child need not dictate—”

She cut her off. “I’m not pregnant, but check back in a couple years.” 

Moira fell silent. A member of the wait staff arrived with Mora’s tea. They set a pot of hot water and a tea cup, along with an array of different teas to choose from, on the table and departed. Felicity waited for her future mother-in-law to pour the water and select her tea bag. Moira focused all her attention on her task, slowly moving through each step. Once the bag was steeping in the water, she still remained focused on the cup before her, leaving it to Felicity to break the silence. 

“You have nothing to say?” 

“I’ve said my peace on the matter,” Moira answered with a negligible shrug of her shoulders and a slight air of martyrdom. 

“If I believed that, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“What is it that you hope to accomplish today?” Now she sounded bored.

Maybe a miracle, Felicity thought but outwardly kept her cool, folding her hands and smiling. Not her normal smile, but one that conveyed her absolute conviction over who was in charge of this meeting, an expression she’d learned from the empress herself. 

“I’m here because we need to establish a few things going forward.”

“Such as?” Moira asked as she idly removed the teabag, setting it on a spoon and wrapping the string around it to squeeze excess water and flavor back into her cup before resting it on the saucer. She picked up her cup and took a sip.

Felicity skipped the rest of the small talk and got the the crux of the matter. “You need to stop punishing Oliver.”

Moira scowled and set her cup down hard, the amber liquid sloshing over the edge. “That’s absurd. I am doing no such thing.”

“I don’t think you even realize what you are doing.”

“Perhaps then, you would be so good as to enlighten me what exactly it is you accusing me of?”

“You are making Oliver pay for his father’s crimes.” 

Moira drew back. Two spots of color appeared on her otherwise even complexion. Fury flashed in her eyes. “You don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Robert left you with an unimaginable mess. One that put your children’s lives in danger and pushed you to do previously unimaginable things. It cost you Oliver for nearly a decade. It took your second chance at love. And I can’t imagine carrying around on my conscious some of what you did, even while I’m trusting that it was the only way to save the people of the Glades. As are Thea and Tommy and Oliver. I’m just asking you to give back Oliver some of the same faith.”

“You have this all wrong. It’s not a question of faith. It’s a matter of character.”

“You found out the hard way that Robert’s character came with a deep flaw.”

“I told you. He couldn’t help himself,” she insisted her hands fluttering in front of her for emphasis. “It was just the way he was made.” Moira didn’t meet her eyes.

“I don’t think you believe that any more than I do, but even if it’s true, he deceived you going in about what your marriage would be. I understand now that you have been trying to give me the choice you were never given. And this isn’t the first time you’ve protected me. That’s what was going on when you pulled me out of the IT department the week before Derek Kaplan was murdered, wasn’t it.”

Moira glanced up startled, giving Felicity her confirmation but otherwise not replying. Felicity continued, nodding.

“Malcolm might have assumed Derek Kaplan recovered the data on that bullet ridden laptop, he didn’t know better, but nothing escapes your attention in Queen Consolidated. You knew Kaplan wasn’t capable of anything that complex. Kaplan signed his own death warrant when he tried to blackmail Malcolm, but you made sure I wasn’t swept up as just another loose end. I’ll be forever grateful for that protection, but you don’t have to protect me from Oliver.”

“He’s Robert’s son. He’s—”

“He’s your son,” Felicity interrupted. Then she said it again. “He’s your son too. You, who would do anything to protect the people you care about. You have no idea how alike you and Oliver are, for good or bad, in that way. You stayed in your marriage to Robert for reasons I won’t judge, but at the start, you wanted a real marriage, not an _arrangement. _ Why are you so certain Oliver doesn’t feel the same way?”

“When he was a boy, he—“

“Was a boy. And he made some terrible, juvenile, selfish choices and hurt a lot of people.”

“They why this starry-eyed insistence he’s someone he’s not?”

“You have it backward. My eyes are clear, but you can’t see beyond the shadow of the past. Oliver is not a boy any more. He might be the most selfless man I know. His first instinct is to put others needs before his, no matter what it might cost him. I can’t say for certain who Oliver might have become if the Queen’s Gambit had not gone down, but it did and from it, he forged his own character. And that’s someone you can be proud of.”

“I am proud of him. I love him,” she said, emotion thickening her voice. “He’s my son.”

“And he loves you and when Oliver loves,” she paused, shaking her head and marveling in wonder, “he loves forever and you need to understand how badly your lack of faith in him is hurting him and I promise you, I will not allow you to continue hurting him.”

“You think you can stop my son from seeing me?”

“Yes.” Her simple, confident reply made Moira flinch. “Oliver will always love you, but he’s not a sadist. Oliver and I are going into this marriage agreed on what kind of partnership we need and want. Oliver’s love comes with his loyalty and faithfulness because that is what he needs as well.” Felicity continued.

“I won’t let your misguided beliefs undermine the kind of love we share or life we want to build. And neither will Oliver. He’s your son. He will do whatever it takes to protect our life together, even if that means cutting you out of our lives.”

“You would take my son from me?” Moira’s voice shook.

“No. The choice is yours. It’s time for you to let go of the past. Oliver is already carrying around the burden of righting Robert’s wrongs in Starling City. I won’t let you lay the rest of his father’s sins on his shoulders.” 

Silence again stretched out between them, but Moira slumped into herself. She wrapped her hands around the white porcelain tea cup like she was trying to absorb the warmth and wisdom of the ancient brew inside. 

“I never meant to burden him,” she whispered. “What have I done?”

“Nothing that can’t be undone. If…you are willing to try.” Felicity stretched out her hand, ready to bridge the gap, let go of their past and begin a new future. Moira stared at it hovering in the air, blinking at it as if she didn’t trust the sight not to be a mirage. She raised her eyes to Felicity’s.

“You love my son very much.” 

“More than anything in this world and beyond.”

“All I want is for my children to find happiness.” Suddenly, tears flooded Moira’s eyes. She grabbed up Felicity’s outstretched palm in a fierce grip, clasping it between both her hands. “I see now Oliver has. Welcome to the family.” 

_** ***** **Epilogue*****_

Their wedding reception was bigger than either Oliver or Felicity personally would have planned, but they’d let their families have their way so it was the top floor of the Queen Consolidated building filled with every friend, family member, and business acquaintance imaginable. 

In the months leading up to the big event, Oliver learned where Felicity got her will of steel. One would never guess the tenacity that lurked in the bubbly, Vegas bombshell that was Felicity’s mother. Donna Smoak refused to be steamrolled on wedding decisions and Oliver suspected they had her to thank for the most personal aspects of the night. And definitely the snowflakes that drifted down at one point during their first dance. Felicity was certain they owed his mother for preventing it from being glitter. 

Oliver smiled, something he hadn’t stopped doing all evening. Somehow their mothers, along with Thea, turned a space where Oliver had attended hundreds of soulless events over the years into something unique, magical, and surprisingly intimate. During the reception, Moira Queen and Donna Smoak stood together at the head of the banquet hall, arms linked, proudly preening over their children’s happiness. 

Never in his wildest dreams would he have thought those two would form a real friendship, but his mother had changed. Maybe it had just been a delayed effect from no longer carrying the burden of her secrets alone, but ever since he’d announced his engagement with Felicity, something had loosened in his mother. She seemed more like the women he remembered from his childhood.

Oliver undid his bow tie, unbuttoned his collar and then he ducked behind the plastic sheeting keeping the guest-suite kitchen dust free during the massive renovation. When he flicked on the lights, they bounced off the shiny espresso machine crowding the counter top. 

Not just any machine. _THE_ machine. His mother had sent it over coincidentally the same evening he’d taken Felicity out and given her his grandmother’s engagement ring. The moment he’d slid it on her finger, Felicity’s smile had been blinding. Then they arrived home and saw the boxed up machine and he suspected if he could have shrunk the Breville Barista BES870XL down and had it mounted in platinum, she would have let him.

Since then, any lingering tension between Felicity and his mother ended, at least on the personal side. On the professional side, they argued for weeks after Felicity insisted Smoak Technologies receive no preferential treatment in getting the networking contract for the Merlyn Global computer system. Felicity won that fight and submitted her anonymous bid along with a half dozen other companies including the subsidiary set up by Curtis Holt through Palmer Tech.

She handily beat the competition and completed the job a month early.

He was damn proud of what his wife’s company had accomplished in just one year. She, on the other hand, insisted he was the one who should be proud as he worked to get his new organization off the ground. He continued leading the building projects for the Initiative on the stipulation that, to start with, a quarter of those hired be part of the new on the job training program. He’d also resurrected a version of his former company to help get candidates ready and to continue on once all phases of the Initiative were complete. 

Felicity was a fan of the new name. She insisted Green Arrow Building had a much more memorable ring to it. His grin grew deeper. All and all, life had been going pretty great and he knew ultimately it had everything to do with the woman waiting for him down the hall. He touched the ring that now rested on his left hand with his thumb, rubbing it with deep satisfaction. It also spurred him to hurry up. He was on a mission. 

He bent to retrieve the bottle of Champagne, chilled and waiting in the compact refrigerator before grabbing a pair of flutes from the cupboard. Once he double checked to make sure no plaster dust had settled on them, he ducked back beneath the plastic and headed to the bedroom attached to what would eventually become the visitor’s suite. It was clear Donna would not be a stranger and as much as he enjoyed his new mother-in-law, Felicity was right, a little built in privacy was good for everyone. 

Finally having Felicity all to himself was a relief even if it had been an ideal night. Hundreds of near strangers attended the wedding reception but that hadn’t mattered since the most important people had been there as well. 

Diggle, along with Tommy, stood up for him as groomsmen while Thea and the surprising addition of Sara Lance became Felicity’s bridesmaids. He’d been confident Felicity and his fellow refugee from Starling City could get along, but he had remained realistic about the chances of them being anything but cordial acquaintances. Few women could be expected to become close friends with a man’s ex—even fewer with the ex he'd cheated with in such a spectacular manner.

One day, he would learn not to underestimate Felicity. When he introduced Felicity to Sara, she’d thanked Sara for being there for Oliver when he’d so badly needed her. And then she stumbled tongue-tied clarifying that she meant as a friend AFTER, not BEFORE when they’d hopped on their sex cruise. She went flame red and the clarifying went on for at least half a minute before Felicity, dying of mortification, wrapped the whole introduction up by opening her arms and hugging Sara. Sara was instantly charmed. Charmed to the point that had Sara not already been madly in love, he might have worried she’d try to woo Felicity away.

It was a funny feeling. Running off with Sara was something he thought he’d pay for the rest of his life, but as he’d watched Sara and Felicity at the reception lead the crowded dance floor through the chicken dance, laughing and falling over one another like they’d been friends from birth, a realization clicked inside of him. 

As painful as his past had been, he no longer resented it. Without the crucible that reformed his character, he wouldn’t have found this new life. A life filled with infinite love and new possibilities no matter where it took them. 

Maybe that was why despite everyone else urging them to stay at some fancy hotel on the first night of their marriage, it felt right to slip off to the first stop of their new future. When the neglected jewel of a house was finished, they would have their dream home. They weren’t the only ones to fall in love with the once impressive neighborhood. Homes like these didn’t get made anymore. People were waking up to what the Glades had to offer. 

Starting their life in their new place—even if it would be another four to six weeks before they could leave the construction zone—felt like they were tapping directly into the explosion of hope currently flowing through the Glades. Tomorrow, they’d board the plane for Bali with its ancient temples, hidden waterfalls and private villas built directly over azure waters, but tonight, they didn’t need the Ritz Carlton or a tropical paradise, they had each other and the promise of a future only limited by how big they could dream. 

“Felicity?”

“I’ll be out in a minute,” she called from the bathroom.

He went ahead and poured the heady bubbles into two glasses and then placed the flutes on the bedside stand. Quickly, he looked around the room to make sure everything was perfect. Candles, but not too many candles, softly flickered in the dim light. Felicity had already turned down the sheets on the queen sized bed.

Oliver heard the click of the door unlatching and anticipation surged through him as Felicity—as his _wife—_emerged wearing a full-length, ivory peignoir. The top was made of a translucent, clinging lace with a plunging neckline and an open back that flowed into a silky material at her hips, teasing the rest of her curves as it cascaded to her toes. She’d taken her hair down, leaving the golden strands to spill like a caress against her creamy shoulders. 

Felicity met his eyes and smiled, infusing it with all the love and light and hunger she’d pledged to him earlier that evening. His heart skipped a beat. It still seemed like a dream, one he would work hard every day to make sure came true.

“You…” he shook his head, marveling, “you take the air from my lungs.”

Felicity slowly, seductively brushed her hands over the silky lingerie, “What? This old thing?”

He went to her, drawn like always to her warmth and humor. His hands lightly grasped her hips. 

“You have never looked more beautiful, but no,” he said shaking his head with a smile, “I mean you, who you are. Every day you amaze me with your brilliance, your kindness, your drive and…” Oliver trailed off, distracted by her perfectly pink lips.

“And,” she prompted.

He raised his gaze to hers. It was all there in her luminous blue eyes; she held nothing of her feelings back and he was humbled all over again by how lucky he was to have found her. No, he corrected, she’d found him.

“Your love,” Oliver finished. “Nothing will ever be as astounding to me as your love.”

“Oliver,” she said his name tenderly.

“You gave me a chance to be the best version of myself and I promise…I’ll never take that or you for granted. I love you. And I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“No fair,” she said and reached up to wipe the tears from her eyes. “You already made me cry at the wedding. And now you are trying to top your beautiful vows.” 

“You inspire me,” he said. That was an understatement. He felt like a poet and a superhero all wrapped together when this woman looked at him, saw him, flaws and all, and still loved him.

“You changed my life, too, you know.”

“I know I changed your last name.”

“How could I resist?” she asked grinning and then looped her arms around his neck. “Smoak-Queen sounds like a powerful sorceress.”

He laughed, making a deep, warm, rumbling sound. Laughter came easy these days. “Sounds about right.”

“I’ve never felt powerful before, except for computers,” she said, turning serious. “You…you make me brave.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t do that. You were risking your life for what was right before I ever met you.”

“I mean here.” She placed her hand over his heart. “It’s easy for me to calculate most risks, but falling in love…that terrified me. You made it so easy…which, of course, was its own kind of terrifying.” They smiled together. 

“I told myself,” Felicity said, “our relationship was temporary and I wanted it that way, but not being with you is…unthinkable. Before…I built my dreams around my intellect. You’ve opened up my heart and reshaped my world. I love you.”

Throat clogged, he hugged her tightly, tucking her against his heart. She was his heart. She was his dream. “I love you so much.” Then he laughed, a small huffing sound, and eased his hold on her just enough so he could look at his wife’s expressive face. 

“What?” She asked, curiosity causing a wrinkle to form between her eyes. 

He smiled. “I think the first time I knew I wanted you forever was when you tried to push me in the pool. And then yelled at me when you failed. Definitely by the time you succeeded.”

She put on a mock, stern face. “You tried to leave me for my own good. You’re lucky all I did was throw you in the pool.”

“That wasn’t all you did,” he teased and wagged his eyebrows. “Best punishment ever.”

Felicity snickered. “You do know you just said sex with me is a punishment.”

Unrepentantly, he wagged his eyebrows again. “If I’m lucky, tonight will be torture.” 

Oliver scooped her up in his arms and carried his bride toward the bed. He gently laid her down on the covers and joined her. She rolled toward him, reaching for his face and peppering kisses everywhere but on his lips. 

“Felicity,” he growled. Ok, it was more like a whine. She stopped and smiled innocently.

“I thought you wanted to be tortured?”

“I’m rethinking it. Maybe save it for the sex dungeon,” he teased.

“Ha! We are so not adding a sex dungeon. Dungeons belong in prisons. Or castles I suppose,” she said, cocking her head considering it. “Your mom has that market cornered, but we could ditch the house and find another one of those if you really want.”

“What I really want,” he said shifting them so Felicity was lying on her back with his body covering hers, “is you.” He trailed his fingertips along the side of her face, memorizing the moment. “Nothing else matters.”

“Nothing?” she asked, responding to a serious note in his voice.

“Nothing,” Oliver affirmed. “You made it your mission to bring me home. I didn’t know it at the time, but the moment you walked into my life, I was already there.”

_ **The End** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it. We've come to the end. I can't stress how grateful I am to the readers and many comments and words of support I've received through the course of posting this story. They have meant the world to me as has ever hit and kudo given, all proof to me that people were joining me on this journey. 
> 
> I know the story wasn't perfect, I had a bit of a bad guy coming from nowhere problem, lol, but my focus was always on Oliver and Felicity and their dynamic even as the answers they were searching for propelled them forward. So I hope in the end, the pluses outweighed the imperfections. 
> 
> If anyone has any lingering questions, I would delight in sharing my thoughts. 
> 
> Once again, thank you all for reading and loving this story as much as I have. Olicity will always be in my heart and coming to the ending of posting this story that I worked on since the sixth season is bittersweet for me, wrapped up in the looming ending of Arrow. But one thing is for certain, Olicity will live forever. They are bigger than the fricking universe. Just the way we like it. :D


End file.
